Mornings

August 29, 2017  •  Leave a Comment

 

It's early.

 

I'm awake.

 

Mornings bring the kind of quiet that delivers an extra portion of mindful moments. There's a hush surrounding me. 

 

The universe is listening. 

 

More subtle, but most pleasing is the reverberation of absolutely nothing. This is when I hear the less obvious; my arm passing the fabric of the sofa's arm as I reach for a sup of coffee, the gentle hum of the refrigerator, the lonesome cricket that must need an invitation to my quiet-time because he's obviously asking, and my finger taps upon the keyboard as the words join bringing us together. 

 

These are my companions this morning; shy sounds that I discover, more often than not, and typically in perfect attendance. 

 

Glancing to the left, I see the old greenhouse. It attaches to the house, much like a visual muse, and inviting me to come inside. 

 

I go. 

 

My hands find a bloom, from a generous hosta plant. The tired wooden chair offers her back for support. It is peaceful in here this morning. 

MorningsMornings

 

What does today have in store for us? 

 

I have absolutely no idea, but the gentle entrance of these morning hours can't hurt.

 

_

All my love and kindness,

Angie


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