I've stolen this morning, sneaking downstairs in the still dark like a thief, barefoot and with particular intent.
The sun snuck into the room, playing sole witness to the mud on the floor, the pots scattered in the subtle pattern of spring.
The lavender is in the dark clay pot now, the vines have more room for their roots, the tropical greens look a little less uncomfortable in their new beds on the freshly scrubbed windowsill.
The dining room table has room again for merriment, the kitchen floor swept of evidence of pre-dawn bustle.
The tulips and daisies on the mantle stretch their white and yellow heads over the aloe and cactus, the rubber tree's leaves shine from their corner again. The miscellaneous leaves of cuttings from strange places spill from their pots and tremble when I whisper my secrets into their earth.
I have stolen this morning while the universe was sleeping, skulking and covered in dirt my hands worked and scrambled of their own accord, while my spirit hid from the city.
In a few hours, dear friends of mine will arrive from Montreal, the carpets need cleaning and the crystal needs to be moved from the reach of an enthusiastic three-year-old.
The papers and letters and disarray of a week of late evenings are piled in a corner, waiting to be filed, and the sun is still peering shyly over my bare shoulders while I contemplate the next offense -- too early to bang around dishes while Dave sleeps, but the compost pots yearn to be taken outside and mixed with the heap that will fertilize the garden in a few weeks.
The fridge is brimming, a turkey on one shelf begging to be roasted, vegetables waving their fronds at attention, an overzealous quantity of cheeses waiting patiently to turn into garlic omelettes and to wrap themselves about fruits and tomatoes and to sit quietly in salads.
There are no cars about yet, and Sydney the yellow feathered half-pound of flying doom is puffed up and snoring gently on the arm of the sofa.
I have stolen this morning for my own purposes, and I treasure it like a burglar with the satisfying bulge of a great diamond in his sleeve.