Prompt from Writer’s Write: Write about the taste of sunshine
Here is my response.
I was up early that morning. Couldn’t sleep. I slipped on my robe and tiptoed to the porch. The screens were damp with the remainder of the rain dropped in buckets from the midnight sky. Trees creaked in the wind and I tugged my robe tighter around me. Where had I left that sash, I wondered. They need to invent robes with belts attached.
I sat, snug in the rocker, and sipped at my coffee. The chip on the handle reminded me I needed to get back to my potter’s wheel. But this was my favorite mug—fit my hands, didn’t burn my knuckles when the coffee was fresh from the pot, and didn’t cool off before I got to the bottom.
I breathed in the morning and let it out just as the first fingers of sunrays poked themselves through the oak branches. The edges of their leaves lit up as the mist rose off them. In the distance a rooster crowed and up close a hummingbird zipped to the feeder for breakfast.
I sipped again. Hot black coffee, muted with whipping cream and sweetened with chocolate and caramel. This is the taste of early morning sunshine, I thought. And isn’t it the best!