Sunshine still.

Wake up.

Because it's here. In this glisten of shine and this mist of aroma. That invisible taste, that pleasant surprise. That sudden rarity; one that hope dies on--just to arrive at the foot of your bed when dreams fade to dew and memories make believe myth.

Whether the coffee that steams the tip of your nose, or the batter that teardrops off the edge of your golden brown pancake plate.

The weather blends into perfect scenery. Trees afloat of waves of green and gust of waft and whiff. With an oversized sweater, worn and grown with each year left in its unraveling story. Your breath floats off in clouds and dances in the sun. Warming your skin with what light is left. The sunshine that's still, quiet, and soft.

It tempts you. To play forever. To kiss its bliss and numb its smile. To mesh your reality and conjure it's plethora of lore. You become the legend; this becomes your land. Your home.

I can't wait for this feeling.