First Cuppa in Morn, Steaming

The air slowly fills with curly pungent wafts of steam billowing up from a hot freshly brewed cup of coffee. Raising the baton to conduct the dawn chorus of bird songs and plans mulled to begin. I love to see and feel the ringlet tufts of steam getting up my nose, blurring and opening up my eyes, like a curtain raise, to conduct the symphony to begin. The trills and tweets, chirps and cheeps, whistles and trills, caws and chortles, are all entwined and garnered in the first sips, of the first cuppa, taken at wake of day. The steam and songs unspool a cotton thread of memories and reflections, hopes and fears, to be weft, warped, shuffled and shuttled, through the loom to weave the coming day.