Small Stone

The rain has stopped.
The wind tumbles high above the house. Outside, a door slams, and slams again.
But here inside, the air is still, and I sit in the particular kind of light that hovers between dawn and day.
The cat sighs. The walls sigh. Hot water sighs through ground beans.
I wait to plunge the filter. Once the coffee groans into being, my day will have begun.
( today’s entry for the 2013 Mindful Writing Challenge)