Joy in the morning

I just couldn't tune out the incessant beeping of the garbage truck from some other part of the neighborhood. . .

After pulling out the garbage, I remembered to turn off the podcast in my ear and listen for the morning sounds on the walk back up to the house. An owl called hauntingly from the woods, the layer of frost crunched beneath my feet where it has accumulated in the shade. I looked up and saw the hope of a morning sunrise at the top of the hill. . . and just couldn't tune out the incessant beeping of the garbage truck from some other part of the neighborhood (cuz it can't all be birdsong and celestial magic, now can it? LOL).