Aubade: (noun) a song greeting the dawn
Lyandra woke to a cacophony of sound. Many many handfuls of birds surrounded her backyard, singing their hearts out with the sunrise.
“You don’t have to yell,” she grumbled. Her thick down quilt and multiple blankets did little to muffle their sound; nor the pillow thumped over her head.
Lyandra flung the covers off and launched out of the bed, scowling. She stomped to the bedroom door, snatched her bathrobe off its hook, nearly toppling the clothes tree in the process, and shoved her hands through the armholes before yanking open the door.
“I’m up! Are you happy now?” Lyandra yelled over her shoulder. The window was only open a crack but the birds fell silent.
She rubbed a hand over her face and shuffled down the hall to the kitchen. Making coffee on autopilot, Lyandra barely noticed when the birds restarted their tentative chirping. She inhaled the rich aroma of chocolate and coffee beans, tapping her fingers against the counter, eyes closed – waiting. With a final gurgle the coffee pot gave up the last few drips and she poured. Lyandra burned her tongue on the first swallow, but her frown drifted into a smile as she continued drinking.
“Maybe your aubade isn’t so bad after all.”
Hands wrapped around the coffee mug, she gave a finger wave to the birds outside.
“As long as I have coffee.”