Thunders rend the morning quiet, an obeisance to the deity for which this day, Thursday, was named.
I pad about the darkened kitchen, groping for coffee things.
Here is a mug. Here is a teaspoon. Here are the creamer, the sugar, and the grounds.
I shamble to the thermos and fill the mug for my morning brew.
I hear droplets of rain tapping on the glass windows, begging shelter from the cold.
Outside, Thor continues to ride across the leaden sky.
Steam warms my chilled cheeks and thaws my frosty paws as I take a sip of my pre-daylight elixir, drinking a toast to the god of thunder who chose to be afoot at this enchanted hour.