Taking stock

Steam lifts off my morning tea.
A robin sings its insistent curling song.
Dawn's light is growing.
A phoebe, no two, begin calling.
Anna is safe. She has finished her three-week hike. Climbed 
    Mount Whitney. She is coming home.
Spiderwebs in the tall grass are white with dew.
A door closes next door. A dog barks. The sheep bleat.
I pull the blanket closer around me.
A catbird mews.
The sweet tea warms me.
My dear friend, Teacher to my soul, will let the cancer take her 
    this time. She will move on.
The sun's first light glints through the trees.
A song sparrow, perched atop the willow, sings into the day.

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