Inspired by a quick write at Teacher’s Write, I’ve been working on the following.  It’s still a work in progress but I’m putting it out there anyway.

Sometimes early on a misting morning in July,

I stand and look out the rain-dropped window

The garden vista blurred,

an oasis of moist green,

Air verdant and ripe with promise

Damp leaves rustle

Errant drops scatter to the ground

Birds call and I listen,

enthralled by the jungle echoes of a pileated woodpecker

The house settles around me

The dog rustles and sighs, slipping deeper into canine dreams

The promising drip-drip-hiss of the coffee pot punctuates the silence

I soften

and lean into the moment

and breathe.