I drank from each of these bowls when my environment gave me the cue to do so. 

5:00 am. Unslept, unaware and sitting with my bowls.

6:30 am. I fully arrive. Was it a change in light? A bird call? The breeze? Either way, I drink to this. 

I feel gentle as the rain. It picks up, rolling with grace through the maze of hills guided by the change of wind. A northerly weighted with gold.

I'm hesitant, fearful.

Now I'm full of laughter and I hear the ping of rain drops as they kiss my bowls.  

9:00 am. A bolt of lightening and a tremor that brings me to my knees and I feel the permission to leave. 

I find an Elder tree, the succulent breath of those tiny flowers make me feel safe.  

My first shaddow, clear as the warmth of spring and allowed by the break of storm. 

The equidna quivers his nose in awareness of my presence but is not yet scared.

12:00 pm. My northern shaddow that I drink to feels inauthentic and forced. I lack patience and honesty and my head is heavy with anthro habits that are making me angry.  

2:00 pm. The waves of activity pull me back to awareness. Like currents of water drifting with the debri of night, each rippling with glee and at times fear.

I question my ability to fully let go and allow for the cues. I am desperate for the wrens to land on my bowls in some fairytale manner.

The day lingers, my head aches, I am hungry and want some tea. 

The coupled gallahs offer me a personified story of a bond united with trust. They seem to become more and more comfortable with me throughout the day.

I drink to this.

The stillness of dusk air calms me and a I have darkness to leave to, with one bowl untouched.