You wake up. It's early. But you're not tired.
You wake up. It's early. But you're not tired. You hear the river in the background. No. It's not your noise machine. It's the river. Surging and flowing. Surging and flowing. It's the rhythm you know so well. And it's calling you. You step outside. Spot the paper. No. The news can wait. You hop on the trail. The wind zips through the willows, racing you; recharging you. You'd take this morning. O...