Morning Rustle

Your kind words from last night kept me company, so this morning I took a few quiet steps across the rug. I found my way up to the low windowsill, tucked neatly between a small potted succulent and the drape of a sheer white curtain. Through a slight gap in the window frame, the breeze outside made the garden leaves softly rustle. I settled against the linen fold and just listened to the morning begin.