Breathe the morning

From the window
I see the roofs stretch far and orange brown
To nudge the blue skyline.
I hear the morning stillness
The cool green hush that rises from the garden
Vine-hung
Waiting for the sun.
I smell cypress and pine
And the musky smell of damp earth
Of decomposing aromatic leaves.
I breathe the pale blue air
Tasting all the facets of the morning picture.
Remembering its delicate flavour
Its cool pastel tones
The gentle crooning of the turtle doves
To savour when the brash sun burns
And stirs the noisy life
Beneath the orange brown rooftiles.