This morning...

This morning I was lured outside by the gentle warm light coming through the trees. There were subtle shadows on trunks and sideways light on maple leaves.



A little later, I was called by the water lily on my pond, as it was slowly opening to greet the day. I spent some time, standing quietly rooted, watching its occasional movements, as yellowjackets danced around my feet, ants explored my legs, flies raced past brushing my ears with their chorus. In the distance, a family of crows shared their strange language of sounds - clicking at each other with gravelly voices or making some of their other un-birdlike sounds that at times seem like a language more complex (and direct) than ours. It sounds like a good sized community down there around the nest. Every now and then, a petal would move or a stamen unfurl. Imagine my surprise when, at the end of its opening, the lily raised up a little higher out of the water and shifted a bit, as if rising to the occasion of the day.


I am humbled and inspired by the slow, quiet grace and beauty of such a being that opens and closes each day during its short life on the pond - opening to share its beauty and nourishment, and closing each evening perchance to dream and re-create the world anew each morning.