morning is my time

it was nice out this morning, not too cold, not too muggy. my
neighborhood was quiet except for a few kids making their way toward
the bus stop. the wind had picked up over night, though, and i could
hear tree branches brushing against each other in my back yard. i
could hear the distant sound of kids yelling. the velvet ambient fog,
the aural subliminal voice of the neighborhood, was talking to me.
whispering to me. the small bird in the branch chirping it's little
song was telling me "I AM HERE!" the dying tree in my front yard
groaning in the wind is much like me, i realized, a rigid structure
containing the magic of life that occasionally feels creaky and tired.
i turned off the car radio to keep the mellow flow. this is my time.

i don't know what your friday holds for you. i hope its full of magic.
i'll be the person ten feet away having a paradigm shifting aesthetic
experience just losing myself in the color of the sun through the
clouds.

i believe quality of life depends a lot on depth of focus.

ghost