Monday, May 4, 2020

The Morning Song

Listen.

The day is waking up.

It is the darkness easing out-of-the-way of the day emerging from her slumber.
When Light Emerges by Tayé Foster Bradshaw. c. 2020.

The birds are chirping their chorus of praise for being alive to greet another day.

This is the time of the writers, the artists, the muse.

I was up and showered by 4:45am. I felt the nudge to get up and greet the day, even if it is another Covid19 Monday in physical distancing. My spirit was compelling me to get up, to be alert, to hear, deeply, the call of hope and wonder.

Today is also my youngest son's birthday and when it is an acceptable hour, I will give him a call at his home on the east coast. I was awake at precisely the time he was born, 3:22am. I listened to the night and then nudged back under the covers.

When all around is still, when nothing is moving, it is exactly the time to be present.

I stepped out into the dawning chill, my balcony held the night dew, and I looked out over the trees that are my daily landscape. I've lived in these highlands for a decade now and every morning, I remain in awe of the beauty that greets me.

The trees swayed, gently pulling back leaves from the earliest birds who rested on the branches. Light began to edge up over the mountains and penetrated the clouds with her burst of lavender. The community of the sky is calling to one another, chirps meeting bleeps, patterns in the the sounds, I inclined my ear and each one is very different. Oh the wonder of the One who created all this diversity!

How can I not marvel at what is still yet exquisite?

It is with intention that we must decide that we will see the unique, the mesmerizing, the beautiful in the middle of it all.

Noticing the trees, listening to the birds, feeling the morning breeze, reaching up to touch the untouchable, yet lifting hands in grateful admiration, that is what calls and compels us to know we will emerge again.

We will not always be inside looking out.

One day we will open our doors and when we do, I hope we step out with gratitude and appreciation.

The earth is renewing herself, that is also what I hear in the morning sounds. The birds can hear each other now, without the drones of man crowding out their symphony.

It is a fleeting moment.

And just like that, light ascends, darkness goes into her slumber, and a new opportunity presents itself to those who live in the day. What wonderful thing would be possible if we stopped and listened, noticed and observed?

I have been in my. home pretty much exclusively since March 11th, outside of a few necessary trips, my home has been my be-ing and dwell-ing place.

It is in the glancing around me and looking out at the majestic of a new morning that I am in no hurry to run out to concrete and big boxes. My breathes are deeper and longer. I feel surrounded by peace.

It is a gift.

A gift of just being alive.

Sing, then, birds in the trees outside my balcony. Sing to me, birds as you greet the day. The blue separates from the lavender from the rose hues behind the clouds, the day is calling us to notice her.

And be thankful.

The unwrapping of night into day, the early riser's gift, 5am - 6am, when the world slumbers that last bit before alarms sound and virtual work and virtual school dominates the day, that moment of just joy and appreciation.

That is my morning song.
The Morning Song by Tayé Foster Bradshaw. c. 2020


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