Sailors

        It was another quant morning- there was a comfortable quietness to the house that leaked in from the still air- enchanted by the dew kissed grass as it dripped into the cold, thirsty earth in light of what would become a hot, still day. But now, it was still in its yawning stages: the birds were already lost to the shade of the forests beyond the fields, and the sky was a soft pink reminiscent of a young child's blushed cheeks or a tulips first bloom. 

        Serene- that was the word Viera was looking for as she looked at this scene from her usual seat at the breakfast table- her warm tea sparkling with the same tepidness as the dewdrops which glittered like crystals upon each blade of grass. The steam rising up to her face as she looked at this view was familiar too now; just like the fog collecting upon the windows in the early morning was faintly remembering the night cold which