Zero two hundred and I find myself in the kitchen building a bean soup for today's dinner. Silence extends from my home into the darkness and it gives me time to think and dream on my feet.
I've noticed my hands give the sharp scent of onion and bacon and just now I get a whiff of fresh brewed coffee. Even though a book awaits my attention I think I'll draw a cup and take a walk, perhaps check the rivers tide.
Besides, the water and salt marsh smell nice this time of the morning, and if one stands quietly, the soft click of the fiddler crabs keep beat with the lap of the shallow waves.