Today I awoke to a welcoming glow from the fresh 7AM sunshine, diffused through downward-tilted mini blinds, casting a highway of parallel stripes across my small bed.

After arising and preparing for the day, a short walk down some blocks to Starbucks re-stimulated my senses once again. The streets were quiet except for the one or two vehicles that passed me by, and as I made my way down the road, I could hear them clickety-clack over train tracks I recently passed close to home. Aside from these cars, much else was silent, yet the cursing homeless men crowding a picnic table in the park were audible as I continued on my way.

Watching each block of cement pass under my feet, I caught scent of the sweetness I have so accustom connected with spring. I looked up to the mostly-overcast sky – but my line of sight was interrupted by the source of this cherished airborne saccharine. These days, blossoms have begun to adorn the street-lined trees, replacing the dead grey of winter, and hinting at the dawn of springtime with a new shade of pale pink. Birds could now be heard playing their melodies amongst the tiny branches high up in these flowering trees. It almost seemed to echo down the road.

At the corner intersection, streetlights illuminated red and green to an absence of vehicles, and crossing guards glowed white and strobed orange for no pedestrians.

But it was Starbucks where people congregated on this Sunday morning. Beverages and breakfast items hit the bar; Iced and hot drinks, mochas, frappuccinos, pastries and premium egg sandwiches. Families, couples, and singles make their way in and out of this caffeinated powerhouse on Madison Avenue – everyone seems to be consumed within their own busy, yet I reside within my own harmony as I sit back and watch the world spin madly on. It is, after all, just another Sunday morning.