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.