Golden light, having thrown off night's chill sprawls luxuriously over you.
As a majestic beast on the Serengeti, you relax supine, poised to sniff the air and to receive your subjects - slender blades of gold and green, cheerful citizens content to bow and sway in your presence.
A crimson guest chitters at the feeder, his voice tumbling and cartwheeling with the same exuberance that roly-poly honey-colored offspring might; it barely registers a flick of your silky and royal ear.
If this were another life, you might have a pride of creatures to protect and feed and survey and groom. But it's only this life, sunshine on a yard that waits patiently to be mowed and trees that begin to shed summer's work with a hint of future glory.
And I think maybe you have something to teach me about being the king of this life.