I’m sitting with my thoughts, waiting for the sun, and watching a thin sliver of moon rise over the southern horizon. I’m reminded of a particular jazz version of a poignant song, and struggling to remember the name of the vocalist who sang the rendition I like.

I finally remember her name. Nancy Wilson. What a voice! The song lingers in my memory, significant and personal. I find a recording of it online and play it as day breaks and the eastern horizon turns orange. It’s a beautiful moment. I savor it.

An owl flies overhead, passing through my field of vision, silhouetted against the the sky as I watch the sunrise. An omen? No, silly, an owl. 😉 I smile to myself, and breathe, exhale, and relax. I watch distant mumurations of flocks of birds across the bold orange sunrise. A good morning for birds, apparently. I try to get pictures, but I’m not fast enough and was unprepared; I “settle” for enjoying the sight. It’s enough to be present in this moment, here, now. It usually is.

The park gate clangs open. Dawn lights the trail. It’s a chilly morning and I wind my scarf around my neck and stuff my gloves into my pockets, expecting to need them. I pause to massage the painful places of my shoulder and neck before I leave the warmth of the car for the beauty of the trail. Always choices. Always verbs. I hear geese calling overhead. It’s time to begin again.