Sunday, August 21, 2011
A Morning Letter for You
Squinting into the angelic morning, blazing white with promise, a distant dog speaks his mind, as birds trill from camouflaged nests, and the steam rises off my coffee like a smoldering black puddle, rousing my misty spirit.
Funny how each day presents itself to us as though it were something new…an unopened letter from life delivered bedside, intended for your eyes alone, as millions of previous mornings are wiped clean like fingerprints from a crime scene.
Each day billions of souls see themselves as a world within a world, the all important protagonists of a literary novel, alone, yet surrounded by minor characters, whose influence varies like the measure of light at any given sunrise.
Perhaps a banished cave man once sat where I sit this morning, although by a tree rather than on a sunny lanai, and he thought with hieroglyphic images of his lost importance in the world as he gazed into the blond morning light, and wondered at his existence.
We are so aware of ourselves on this physical plane, as hunger drives us to feed, love, with her juicy suggestions and endless yearnings, seduces us to multiply, and then there is pain with its pointy fingers, poking and puncturing our most tender places, reminding us that we are temporary.
We’ve so much to do, kicking off the morning covers and running into ourselves on our way out, spinning like a globe on an axis of our own making. It is today again, and time…for another cup of coffee.
Posted by Leah Griffith at 6:24 AM