Morning rituals establish the
pace of our days. I awaken to the
last hour of star glitter and deep
silence. Even creatures of the floresta
are quiet. My cup of tea breaks the
fast of slumber; I sit quietly and pen
words of promise as the words flow
effortlessly across the page.
Fingers of light begin to trace
the horizon, a tiny bird chirps the
beginning of dawn. My dew covered
feet walk the floresta path to the
pond where frogs plop into the water
at my arrival. My bench calls me
to sit quietly and watch the hand of God
paint the sunrise across purple skies.
I feel the presence of love, unconditional
and eternal. I feel blessed.