Creek Bench, Morning One

Creek bench mornings: the stone that kept last night's cool, the mist that lifted off the water at seven, and the kingfisher that worked the same three perches. Entries log benches by morning. The creek rewrites its banks a little every day, and the bench stays to watch. A cup of coffee goes cold faster here than anywhere else in town, and nobody minds. Sitting still is the whole point. The heron does not count visitors, the water does not ask questions, and the hour between sunrise and full light belongs to whoever shows up for it.