Morning Light

Coffee tastes different here. So does the morning, which arrives slowly, a gold smudge along the horizon, before it spills across the water and into the kitchen. Nothing about the day has changed. There are still emails to answer and a dentist appointment at three. But the light does something to the list. It makes each item smaller, more bearable, like stone smoothed by tides. I carry my mug outside and let the gulls argue on without me. Ten quiet minutes, that is all it takes. The coast doesn’t fix the day. It simply reminds you how to meet it.