Morning fog,
in my head,
outside too,
hovering over the mountains,
everything is wet,
and I am awake,
I fill my cup,
before the pot is full,
disturbing the ratio,
I am always too impatient to wait for the grand finale,
the loud flourish,
the heaving cough,
that signals the coffee is done.
I tread lightly outside,
to the garden I go,
the grass slick,
air crisp,
perhaps fall has come at last,
but I doubt it.
I gaze at my plants,
my little green growing things,
my dry, turning brown and dying things,
and I give grace to the credence,
to the cycle,
of living things.
I set my intentions for the day,
I sort and list,
and prioritize,
and get my sh*t together,
thinking about
all the ways I will be productive,
all the ways I will feel good in my skin,
all the ways I will feel alive, and well, and connected,
I take a small moment
to breathe and listen.
Cars already racing,
up on 25,
hustling, bustling,
going places,
perhaps to church,
on this blessed Sunday morning,
the church bells ringing time,
as time passes,
as though every hour of time,
is something to be celebrated.
Go figure.
From below,
I look up at my new, old home,
what was it like
when the church bells rang 200 years ago,
was this very garden peppered with small animals grazing,
waiting to start their workday?
Did they know, too, it was time to begin again?
The goats next-door bleat,
and I am reminded,
that while things change,
not much is different.
I look inside my heart,
and decide,
right here,
right now,
I will be happy today,
with just today,
and I will make choices that help me feel good,
feel grateful,
for today.
As the sun makes its way,
as it rises,
(so much like me),
I am still,
and for a sacred moment I hear it,
I hear the sky whisper,
you are loved, you are loved, you are loved.

~