An alarm woke me from my sleep today.
No bells or whistles or unwanted blares… instead a quiet inner alarm
timed to the sunlight hitting the tree outside my bedroom window.
I flopped back to grab another hour’s dream, but the shimmer of tree’s reflected light played into my thoughts…
It took me a minute to realize that the sun’s lighting on the trees outside my window was somehow wrong.
Not bright enough,
Not high enough
and not even late enough for the usual peeking sun
… What the heck?!
So I tumbled out of the tangled sheets, and scrounged the floor for sneaky slippers and crumpled robe
and stumbled quickly to the kitchen and mystery of this new day.
And Morning waited for me there
like a child that cannot hide her surprise
There through the kitchen window
unveiled a blaze of beauty
unfurling in clouds painted in the brilliance of pinks and tangerines
lavenders and burnt umbers
An explosion of color on the canvas of expectant clouds
Swirling wisps of perfection
set on the background of the most beautiful, tranquil, turquoise wash I have ever seen. My heart stopped…
like the clouds.
And I ran.
I ran out to be part of it all somehow.
Slipper footed in winter, snow clinging to my robe
face toward heaven
twirling in my driveway
laughing at the crazy freedom of feeling like a child again twirling in circles
arms stretched wide grabbing to hold
of every memory
in every God-brushed cloud
And then I saw it – the morning tree outside my bedroom window – reflecting light. But this wasn’t the reflection of any ol’ sun ray of any ol’ sunrise…
No, my morning tree was reflecting the tender pink of a single cloud’s blush
And there I stopped.
Laid out in silent wonder,
and I started listening,
a song birds belting out her urgent song,
a distant rooster heralding his daily charge,
wind playing chase through frost-nipped leaves…
A moment of life taking notice
My life taking notice
I knew soon the magic would be gone
the clouds would shed their glory,
and the songbird’s melody would get lost with the rooster’s in the wakening swell of morning traffic and Sun’s well worn path
But here’s what I know:
For one small moment this morning
and I stood
standing in the middle of my driveway
with heart pried wide open
I think I felt Hope’s blush
on my face.
Linking up with A Field of Wild Flowers (Small Wonder)
and Tell His Story
Coffee for you Heart,