The morning paper arrives.

The morning paper arrives.

People wake up every morning and drink that coffee or tea; sometimes they give you a kiss on the cheek. But for me, I look out the window and daydream of all the beautiful things I see. I can hear the birds singing in the trees, and I can hear the wind blowing in the cool summer breeze. Sometimes the bees buzz in the flowers for hours. Then the morning paper arrives. The world is still alive. And that's no big surprise.