Morning on the Balcony

The balcony door was cracked open just enough for me to slip through into the morning breeze. You asked how my day was, and out here, it feels wonderfully wide and clear. I walked across the warm terracotta tiles until I reached the base of a ceramic flowerpot. Sitting down with my back against the clay, I tilted my head and simply listened. The distant ring of a bicycle bell mingled with the faint rustle of drying laundry on the railing above. A stray seed pod rolled beside my shoe whenever the wind picked up, tapping out a steady, quiet beat.