I wake up to you.

The warmth of the night aire called me outdoors. While riding my bike the breeze which resulted from each stroke of the pedal made me contemplate riding my bike through the night till morning. As I begin to half heartedly reason my way out of this all night vigil or voyage my mind conceives of another promising endeavour. I ride home and shove a metal water bottle in to my backpack up against a thin sheet before I head out the door into the night, I grab a pen and notebook.

I rode my bike to the water's edge, to the dilapidated wooden docks that sit on the glittering reflections of the lights. It is to the south of the docks where I decide to rest for the night snuggled under a cluster of pine trees near bushes which mask this part of the landscape in a kinder darkness.

Laying at the feet of such magnificent beings which stretch up into the dark waves of the atmosphere lets me begin to understand my place in it all. I feel sheltered and protected by the outstretched branches while at the same time captivated by the mystery of all I do not yet know about these natural sculptures.

The hard ground did not warrant much rest but the lapping waves helped to lull me asleep a few times. I woke up to a sky where stars transform into white opaque masses that drift across the sky under the aliases of cumulus and cirrus. They take this form during the day till night fall asks them to implode and become more vibrant to help the restless find their way as the rest of the world sleeps.

I wake up to the company of a fisherman on the docks and a swarm of mosquitoes above my body. I do not embrace the presence of either but ignore both in search of words that are whispered up from the grass and are recorded in ink on a milky page.

The sun rises over the distant tree tops to the east creating a warm glow upon my skin and paper. This may be one of my favorite gifts from God. The warm glow that the sun casts when she just wakes up the sleepy inhabitants of this coastal town or when she gets tired in the evening and the streets are washed over in a golden bath of dying sun's light.

The blonde hair on my arms turn into golden thread making me exceedingly better dressed than any king or queen. Although the water's silvery blue dance and the sun's orange applause of light beckon me to linger in this place longer, I must remember the intention of the day and bind myself to the duties laid out before me by a beloved friend.