Morning

Thursday Morning

5:08 am
I wake to joyous birdsong and listen;
Downy Woodpeckers, Mourning Doves, Northern Cardinals, Song Sparrows, Blue Jays, Tufted Titmouse, House Sparrows, Carolina Wrens, and many more whose names I do not yet know.

5:27 am
The windows are partly open as thunder begins rolling in, the birds quieter for just a few heartbeats, and then, as if an orchestra conductor’s baton raised the tempo, again singing loudly.

5:31 am
Rain begins slowly washing the earth, like adagio, gently swaying with nature’s avian creatures.

5:36 am
Thunder takes less space; birds still, almost in reverence to the might of the quelling noise as drops ping off gutters.

5:41 am
Showers continue to dance from the sky elegantly; the ceiling fan above whirring as a Catbird’s calls join the serenade.

5:45 am
The sky darkens like a silenced light while the feathered fliers seek shelter from the storm.

5: 49 am
A slight chill comes in through the still-open windows, and moody bits of light seep through the squares in their sheer coverings. I pull the sheet and duvet up to my neck and close my eyes.

5:56 am
A long exhale of thunder, then a few further away rumbles; the wind is gone, and the birds return to sing in harmony with the world-washing rain.

5:59 am
I rise and thank nature for the majestic display and the music—the heartbeat of our planet—aware of all who will never experience what I have had in just fifty-one minutes in one morning of this life. ❦


 

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