Thursday, October 21, 2010
each day a new beginning...
And so, it's here, the light of a new day. This one is gray with the subtle sound effects of rain. It taps on my roof in soft percussive rhythms and falls from the awning of my west window in large, light-filled drops.
And this morning I'm thinking, I wish I could bottle these early hours, encapsulate them and enter them at will, these hours of peace and quiet that linger in suspension before the active day begins. Before saws, hammers, leaf blowers and dust overwhelm them, and the regular, fevered pitch of construction, reconstruction and maintenance--that's become the norm in this neighborhood--kicks in.
I'd like to stay in the spaciousness of early morning, when my mind is open and fresh from the night's journey and newly hatched. I'd like to bask in the unfettered surprise that is arising -- the dynamic quiet of the bud.