The morning is my time. As day breaks over the trees and bleeds like ink in water across the sky, my heart lifts with it, and I wait for the coming of warm winds to carry my wings from the mists.

Morning is not everyone’s time, but over the years my Min has come to enjoy them too, joining me for more dawns each month. She doesn’t have to, but I like that she does. You’re welcome to join us too, if you’d like. The spring and autumn are especially good, when points of geese lance overhead, and the bugs are not too bold, and the dewy grass twinkles like stars, as if the ones fading with the night go to sleep in the earth for the day.