Dear Moody Mornings that conspire to keep skies grey long enough to insist I linger in bed fluffed with pillows and layered with pages instead of leaping up to embrace a sunrise or walk in your morning magnificence and while I am grateful for the joy of leaping I remind myself to bow down too to the yang of your yin and accept the colour of your sky as the kindness it is. A bucket of thanks is what I’m trying to send you.

♥