The heat is pressing. Too much to sleep in with the sun up too. May as well get up, go and see what the world looks like at this time.
Up and out early, awake before the dandelions have even got out of bed.
There is a breeze, a blessedly cool breeze, enough to stir fresh leaves of fern that have gained a foothold in a wall.
Wren is singing insistently. Blackbird pipes enquiringly. Collared Dove sounds rough, not fond of so many early mornings perhaps. Chaffinch greets the morning with enthusiasm, still happy to have days to sing for.
And in the park all is lit by early morning sun.
Pollen dust dances where sun’s fingers find it. All is deep, cool shadow and rich pools of colourful light.
Sun climbs higher, lighting leaves from behind.
The sun will climb, the heat will build, the day as warm as the rest of the week, but I will have seen the day in the small hours, felt the cool before it is chased away and the memory of light and breeze will sustain me through the day.