slow green mornings
On slow mornings, matcha, and nowhere to be.
There’s a kind of morning that doesn’t announce itself.
No alarm. No plans. No reason to be anywhere yet.
The light comes in. Water heats. Matcha gets whisked. The phone stays facedown for a little longer.
Some days begin before the world does.
Minutes stretch when nobody is counting them. Matcha starts bitter, then softens. Patchouli hangs close. Sandalwood stays warm underneath.
Nothing urgent. Nothing optimized.
Eventually, the calendar gets checked. Messages get answered. The day starts asking for things.
But not yet.
These mornings are rare. Hard to schedule. Even harder to recreate.
So leave them alone.
Or open a can of Matchouli.
