An early morning walk. So silent one could not tell the
difference between your heart beat and footsteps. So early the heron’s breakfast was disturbed
and fish that only rippled the surface, during the day, now felt the morning as
they leaped out of their world for a moment before splashing back into the
lake. With each lap a tree went from
black to brown then orange and then returned to its daytime color of gray.
As I walked, talking to and through my heart, the sun kissed
the moon good night and drew the blush curtains across the sky so she could
sleep. And with a quick wink, left a
whisper, ‘Don’t focus on the change,
just look to see the light.’ Perhaps a rephrasing
of not being able to see the forest for the trees, or maybe just another
bookmark to come back to when I am wise.
Or, perhaps, maybe, nothing more than just a quiet morning sunrise walk
watching fish with wings, hearing the sound of the heart’s footsteps, a tree
changing colors and a spill from the morning blush that happened to land on a
tree.
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