Yesterday's Moon

still hung in the sky and greeted the morning sun.  I seldom see this but it always amazes me. Maybe it's nothing special but it felt special.  I did not question it but simply enjoyed it.

The same moon last night showed through the Mulberry tree that I used for support.  I have neither the proper camera, tripod or intelligence to take a fantastic moon picture but this night the joy was in the trying, not the end result.

Once again, I have awakened before four AM.  The weather has cooled and so the windows are open, letting the night air in.  I wake with a stuffed nose and try Granny's old trick of Vick's.  I smell it and breathe better but not well enough to return to sleep.  So here I am again, sharing the thoughts ricocheting in my brain in the morning hours.

After a house full of people yesterday that left one by one, I welcomed the quiet. Papa and the boys left for the demolition derby.  As much as I love to see vehicles crash violently into one other, get turned over with cars smoking and people crawling out of said cars, running to safety, I declined the invitation and stayed home.

I welcomed the quiet and spent it reading a wonderful book by Greg Iles, one of my favorite new authors. The house smelled of Pinesol from the day's cleaning and there were no chores that called my name.  I got lost in Pen Cage's adventure and left this world behind,  if only for a little while.

Once again in the early predawn, the roosters begin to greet the day and I think of dumplings and fried chicken and dressing...they don't crow after they become these dishes.

Early Morning

and the light has not reached the sky.  The lightening bugs still fly,  showing their beacons of romance, saying I am the best.

I sit quietly on the porch and wonder why I have chosen to greet the day so early. 

The cry of the whippoorwill echoes in the early morning darkness, bringing to mind the first time Dad showed me a nest with the mother at home.  The real bird did not match the beauty of its song.

The frogs are quiet this early, I guess they have tired of their songs of glory, perhaps they are resting for the greeting of the dawn.

I see no stars, so the rain must be coming, only the lightening bugs still dance against the blackness of the night.

Roosters are crowing in anticipation of the dawn.  Are they practising for daylight or do they just love the sound of their voices in the still of the morning?

My mind is full of questions as I listen to the predawn day.  Maybe I should not ask questions but simply enjoy the coming of it.

This is my time of morning, though I seldom have  time to truly appreciate it.  It is a time of a new beginning, the backdrop of a blank canvas that will paint itself and will change its scenes through no influence of mine. I hear the sounds and imagine the beautiful picture that will present itself as the light seeps into the night.

The farm animals are quiet, except for the prideful roosters, and have no idea their provider sits, hidden, enjoying the time before another day begins.

At the computer, I enjoy a song that has touched me.  If you have time, listen...many times there is a message in music...we just have to listen with our heart.

Enjoy the beauty that is your day.

My Favorite Time

I sit and listen

to the early farm sounds.

The roosters are crowing to greet the day

but have not left their roost yet.

Gypsy lays, snoring, after her early morning walk

her future still undetermined.

The house is silent.

Soon the sounds will hit me,

the tv blaring,

the people waking,

noise levels raising with each minute that passes.

I can only wait,

I can only dream

of the next quiet morning.