January Morning

There’s something to be said for a January morning.

Wrapped in the solemn hush of fading stars, the sun creeps slowly toward the edge of day.

From the edge of my bed I see subtle bands of orange, blue and white bend around the awakening horizon. Winter branches sway, still barren in winter’s sleep, forging scratches across the sky.

I sit, alone with winter morning; all's silent but for the clank of steam nudging air through the radiator.

A hawk glides, graceful, oblivious; single minded in its purpose, to exist, to fly...to see.

Then, the first glimmer of sunlight spreads across adjacent peaks.

A sliver of liquid orange glides down the rooftops and drains on the walks below.

The unhurried, the unnoticed…the unappreciated start of every new day.

I must have sat in this same exact spot a million times over the years and never noticed.

There's magic all around us, even when we're not looking...especially when we're not looking. 

I guess a little New Year’s gift for me from the Universe today.

Thanks Universe…I needed it.

Maybe you did too….

_________________

For if there is a sin against life, it consists
in perhaps not so much in despairing of life
as in hoping for another life and in eluding
the implacable grandeur of this life.

Albert Camus  -1913-1960