Wednesday, March 1, 2006

Southern Dew

I sit on my porch, smelling the morning air. I feel the gentle morning breeze very softly flittering thru my hair. It whispers thru the tiny blooms on the Flowering Pear tree right off the porch.

The air smells so very good. Spring is coming and the air smells of rebirth and bloom. I smell the grass beginning to sprout. I smell the trees waking up. I smell the South coming back to life and readying itself for a new growth season.

I smell hope and dreams in this morning air.

I draw my finger down the porch rail and feel the dew bubbles pop under my skin. The dew smell pours over me. It also is like Spring and hope and wonder.

I settle onto the porch swing again. I nestle deeper into my robe, wrap my hands around my steaming coffee cup and take a big sip. I watch the birds come to the lawn, drink the dew and seek their breakfast among the seedlings and living creatures buried under those seeds.

I stand up, take one last long indrawn breath, absorbing all these thoughts and wonders into myself, and go into the house to prepare for my day.

It's going to be a good one I think.