Some mornings I look at the angle of the light shining through the oak in the courtyard of the old sandstone church.

Some mornings I watch a small dog nestle under a stool as his owner reads the paper.

Some mornings I stretch in the park and feel the day filled with infinite possibilities.

Some mornings I drink a long black out of a bright turquoise cup and start writing my bestseller in a yellow Moleskine notebook.

Some mornings I look at the sky over the neighbour’s hedge and feel part of something infinite.

What did you notice this morning?

Photo by Kayla Farmer on Unsplash.