Beautiful Cynicism III

Morning fog as thick as pea soup obscuring the coastline.
Ship’s whistles and bells echoing in the harbour.
A thin layer of dew spreading over anything and everything left out-of-doors.
Gentle breeze from the inlet sweeping inland, making the windchimes sing.
Birds hopping cautiously on the balcony among the flowers.
Every shade of green surrounding me, from the playful lightness of the maple to the deep introspection of the fir.
Scent of cedar, kelp, and fish scales wafting in through open windows.
A crow perched on the ledge, having a conversation with himself.
A whistle wailing in the distance, announcing the train’s arrival.
I am home.