Each day I see
One frame of the seasons unfolding.
A movie reel running so slowly I might miss it if I don’t pay attention.
Greens to yellows to reds
Leaves flitting down lazily
A gentle, one-time, kaleidoscope snowfall.
Trees become bare, preparing to stand stoically all winter.
To stop bending in the wind.
Each day the sun has a new angle, the light a new flavor.
Each day is a chance for quiet, for reflection, for breath, for presence
A chance I sometimes take and sometimes miss.
Each day I notice my body.
The little things that ache and, less often, the big things that don’t.
Each day I am the quiet before everyone else’s day has begun,
The rhythm of early morning before the school bells have rung.
Each day, near the end, I appreciate this time
Thankful to the canine whose fault it is I’m up so early.
Tomorrow morning, the alarm will ring, earlier than I’d like
And I will think, “Again?”
The lines between a chore, a discipline, a practice, and a blessing are blurry indeed.