Beauty

There is beauty in my morning walk, before the sun arises, before the city awakens and noise fills the air with the sounds of the busy day.

There is beauty in the silence as I walk along the city streets and immerse myself in these quiet moments before the day begins.

There is beauty in the trees standing bare against the morning sky, still glorious in their stature despite the loss of their lovely leaves.

There is beauty in the gathered leaves, arranged in orderly piles along the street, as colorful as the Christmas lights on the eaves of the houses that I pass.

There is beauty in the birdsong, awakening all around me like a band tuning their instruments before the concert begins.

There is beauty in Your nearness, walking beside me in these thin places of the morning.

Be still and know

When you are still, you notice things like the rustle of leaves in the treetops, or the slightest glimpse of yellow in the branches.  

When you are quiet, you hear things like the high, thin whistle of their calling or the sound of berries falling to the forest floor.  

Bustling, hustling, frenzied lives will never behold a Cedar Waxwing.

Grandparents

I can’t eat an apricot without thinking of them

And their house, and the yard and the trees.

My childhood playground.

Climbing trees and picking fruit

Apricots and peaches made into pies

The not-so-secret stash of Doublemint gum

Dancing with the water wiggle, hanging on the clothesline wire

Balloons sent sailing away on the swamp cooler’s breeze

Sock skating down the glossy hall floor

Exploring the depths of the basement below

Waiting for the noon whistle to blow

Root beer floats and the Lawrence Welk show

And just being with them.

How I miss them.

How I long to see them again.