I woke up with an ache in my spine. Air conditioner was blowing at a low steady low noise. It was 90 minutes till 8 am.
Time was ticking.
I opened the window to the west. I could hear faint morning calls of sparrows from the near by bald cypress . While the espresso was brewing, I shuffled my morning dilemma . Must I read, write or go for a walk?
Time was ticking. It was 7:00 am.
Must I read the paper or listen to my own stillness? My hands reached for the blue cup for the espresso.
The blue color made me yearn for the morning sky. It was the day after the harvest full moon.
Time was ticking. It was 7:15 am.
I was out of the door , on the path winding the pond. Morning calls of grackles to the left were blended with traffic to the right. Larks were flying high against the still grey sky towards the northwest. Cedar elm leaf abscission was in progress giving a patch of green and yellow ground cover. Two squirrels pursued each other circling the great Southern live oak tree, seeing me one stopped and ran back.
Time was ticking. It was 7:35 am.
The eastern horizon became painted rapidly changing colors of yellow, orange and red. Sun was not yet visible. I crushed a twig of Arizona cypress for its texture fragrance. There were more squirrels out looking for acorns. Waving yellows of tall goldenrods, purple flowers of tievine and pink rose mallows highlighted the pond edge. More live oak and pecan trees stood still observing and absorbing. A man walked a Yorkie on a leash, both in half slumber.
Time was ticking.
At 8 am, I was at my desk . It was another morning. I am content.
