I beat my morning alarm again. I play a few turns of Words With Friends. I step into the common room, slide open the glass doors and sit out on the wooden deck. Barefoot. Plaid pj pants, tshirt. Specs. It’s cold. But i like it. Birds singing. I imagine the lyrics. Like a morning prayer. I hear droplets from overnight dew. I stare out into the distance. I am at Mount Madonna, nested in the mountains. this morning I am welcomed by a family of tall trees. Beyond them I see a soft shadow of sunrise that connects an ocean of low fog and the morning sky. A morning bell rings once.