I suppose it’s all how we come to it. The morning light.
It’s not that different from yesterday. But it is beautiful! How can it still be mixed with a hint of surprise after all these years?
The birds see it before I do. Each in their own language of song, “Look! Look!” they say. Never one to argue with a tune, I open the shutters, and let it all in. The glistening light carried on wings.
Diamond lit are the leaves on the trees. Sparkling too with each blade of grass. Even yesterday’s weeds join in the dew. It seems that all is forgiven in the garden. Nature has it right.
I bow my head before the morning light. Humble. Vulnerable. Open. Just a hint of surprise, as my heart seems as willing as all the green to accept the sparkle. A mix of willow, wren and weed, I come to the day. I come to the garden. Ready to shine.