I'm having a marvelous morning.
It began with a rain concerto playing for me outside each window. I listened for awhile, then pulled the covers up, and listened a little more. I reached for one of the books on my nightstand -- How to Read a Poem and Fall in Love With Poetry, by Edward Hirsch. I read about things I already love to love. I marvelled at the beauty of the language. I wished everyone could feel what I was feeling. Then I realized that many already do.
A leisurely breakfast was in order. My sound senses were keen, and I heard the crunch of one of my new-found joys -- demerara cane sugar, as I ate cinammon toast and a sliced banana. I paid attention to the taste and temperature and aroma of my coffee. Oh, the joy of simple things. I read some more.
It still rains. The sky light is dim, as if in reverance. Even the birds are quiet. Perhaps they're listening, too.
And I have the pleasure of not having to do anything I don't want to do today. It can be anything. Or it can be nothing. Nothing, except what I may choose. And who knows what that will be? Because right now, the now is quite enough.
