With The Stroke Of A Brush

With The Stroke Of A Brush, a photo by hbmike2000 on Flickr.

Early in the morning, a giant hand reaches out and paints the sky.

A buzzer goes off, a small hand reaches over and shuts it off.

Feet fall to the ground and shuffle out the door. Too tired to talk, I grunt then mumble incoherently. No translation needed. I scratch my head and try and smooth down my pillow hair to no avail. Happy, I shuffle back in, make coffee and shuffle on back outside to grunt some more at the beautiful view.

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