Of course, dangling your feet in the pool, listening to the crickets is not considered productive work by most people. But you and I know differently, and this is one of the things I like about you. And me.
Of course I will come to see the cabin at the top of the hill, and see for myself how the morning mist does or does not rise up from the warm forest floor, between the veined, flat surfaces of the leaves, without a sound. And I will sit outside and listen to the sounds of the forest before the sun has quite made its way over the horizon.
Of course, you will already be up, because this is how it has always been. The zipper of your jacket is my alarm clock and the soft footsteps of you leaving your room wake me from my sleep and even if you do not ring the meditation bell, I will know what time it is, because I have done it a thousand times just like that, in this body and in the last.