She's there again -- Ms. Goose -- honking her wake up message for all to hear. And he's there too -- listening Bird, answering Bird, whistling a lovely pitch (what key is that?).
The fog hangs over the distant lake as the sun slowly moves across each droplet suspended in mid-air.
And for a moment, all is stillness. Ms. Goose is drawing breath, Bird listens, and in the in-betweenness, a splash -- heard as clearly as if I were the one diving into the so-cold water -- travels across the distance from lake to me.
That sound -- that single quiet splash in the even quieter morning -- vivifies . . . everything.
I am alive.
And it is a good day.
The fog hangs over the distant lake as the sun slowly moves across each droplet suspended in mid-air.
And for a moment, all is stillness. Ms. Goose is drawing breath, Bird listens, and in the in-betweenness, a splash -- heard as clearly as if I were the one diving into the so-cold water -- travels across the distance from lake to me.
That sound -- that single quiet splash in the even quieter morning -- vivifies . . . everything.
I am alive.
And it is a good day.
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