The yawn, the dawn and the song...

I'm sitting here this morning at my kitchen table.

The sun is coming up and I'm listening to the birds sing their "dawn songs".  The landscape is eerily still as it appears there is not a wisp of wind.  The ground is green and covered with dew, some shaded parts still sparkle with the diamonds of what looks like a light frost.  The sun is casting long shadows along the backyard creating the coolest charcoal art with the still--almost naked--trees.  Trunks, branches, and twigs darken the surface of the yard with silhouettes that are almost HD in the quality of their detail.

The sky is clear and blue, a canopy of hope letting people know that the morning is here, the mourning is over, that it's a new day and we are met with new mercies rising with the dawn.

I just yawned which is my bodies way of telling me there's much to do and more to be today.  I drink in the picturesque landscape lapping up its beauty to bolster me for the day ahead, still to come.  Nature is like a gas station for my soul.  When I'm on empty I pull myself toward the fuel pump of creation, grab the nozzle of nature, remove the gas cap off my closed off innards, and pour in stuff the gas tank of my heart needs to run.  This is so important to my existence.

I haven't been doing this enough lately.  I haven't been filling up on the beauty of the world around me and my heart can't run on fumes forever.  I don't believe anybodies can.

Thanks for the beautiful morning and the mercies that accompany it.

I needed this today.

Now for the other nectar that soothes the soul, a good cup of joe.


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