Monday, July 31, 2017

Morning Laments

Up with the morning light – nothing to see quite yet, at least that willing grabs attention away from the comforts of a bed; warmth, rest. As morning's time continues its jest into the sky – mute with clouds and heavy fog, the shapes of reality form: sun bleeding through, first in individual rays, then in entire shafts, columns – ever expanding layers of light; good 'ol Roy G. Biv in action. This scene taking no more than minutes on the clock facing me. 

Stepping outside, the noticeable nip to the air brings to memory the march of autumn; though it is the last day of July still, and a dip into autumnal weather of this sort seems a bit premature. We'll call it a cold front for lack of a better, more examined explanation – whatever its exact term, it is certainly colder than the temporary heatwave of yesterday’s briefness. Quite welcome in fact, for I’d rather be cold than hot; a man can always take layers off, but skin, on the other hand, doesn’t peel quite as easy without other bodily complications, et cetera.

A bunny, munching in the early morning stillness upon grasses damp with dew follows gravity’s course downhill a few more hops, measurable paces beyond the house trailer my love now calls home. This is a new space for her – for both of us. Not wanting to be surprised, yet at the same time looking for awe and amazement, we have explored the few corners and nearby roads of this new space in a span of hours and minutes from last night till now – with this morning’s movement about being, by far, the easiest: locate front door; approach the front door to the trailer, unlock, open and exit entryway; there awaits the porch, whose dimensions in the early morning light are a new experience for her and I. For at least in this life, that I can remember, I’ve never been in this exact spot, this exact place, this exact time.

Oh the sunlight pouring through the green leaves of a nearby Locust tree; the words that try to form to describe this scene of light mixing with cloud, white and grey layers dissolving to expose more light: yellow in theory, green in reflection off all that surrounds; a portrait of life in motion.



With a minor reluctance - hidden, recessed – I return into the trailer to assemble my few items: a book, a note, and gather my pack for the bike ride home. Just like she, I have a day of work on the clock for the greater good!, and spending time on this lovely morning watching bunny rabbits and sunlight streaming through cloud layers is not an option without consequences of the gainful employment type.  

Mounting the red and two-wheeled steed I call a bicycle, I find an easy rhythm in the relatively flat terrain of road between her place and mine. Fortunately, the ride there is filled less with human obtrusion and more with nature’s bounty: a flowing river headed on its course – down, down, across? – giving rise to rolling hills, clad in trees, whose auxiliary ridges and ripples seem all apart of a greater plan. With sun at my back as I ride, I cannot help but feel light, feel love and a great sense of beauty surrounding. So much so that I float with ease up the final hill blocking access between where I live and the world I came from; a hill that typically grinds at me, my disposition, in the heat of afternoon. Surely this positive inspiration swelling in my breast, issuing across my face in a large and smug smile has contributed to the ease and lightness I feel throughout.

Arriving home, I take the necessary minutes to answer my body’s morning needs before sitting down to peck away at this digital device – striving to capture the moment in memory’s temporary shadow before, like the morning fog and mist, they evaporate – materializing back into the universe from whence it came. Grateful am I for this experience, for this immediate purpose this morning, and for the inspiration of a natural world too large to lovingly capture in words.

Blessings of sun and crisp morning air to all,

Alan
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