Beauty, Light and Song
I woke to the melody of bird songs and wind chimes and noticed the morning light dance against the western wall. Mesmerized, I watched the botanical shadows shape-shift until they ran out of time. I sat silently at the window with Zoli and Frida, following two pairs of quail with our wide eyes. Each quail paused to face a different direction, the females east and west, the males north and south. They took turns offering calls, like prayers to the sacred morning before mindfully wandering off.
I walked the garden path in the company of beauty. I sat in a shady nook with the warmth of kindred light. I measured the time with distracted senses— ten minutes of geese calls, five minutes of waterfall, an hour of cooling breeze, a moment of fluttering wings. I listened to poetic musings unleashed by a generous, grateful heart and felt the pulse of heartache that lives in discussing troubling news. Meandering out of the garden I paused to breathe in a patch of eggs, perfectly formed peonies with sunny-side-up blooms.
I rested with the afternoon and heard a mourning dove. Her wings played the wind as she flew between the landscape and the linden tree. Whistling down to gather materials and whistling back up to the highest limb. Then, a pause in her wings as she went to work building her precious nest.
I sunk into the cotton sheets accompanied by sweet dreams. And woke to another morning offering beauty, light and song.