Awake

Awake, I try to discern how I feel.  Cocooned in the blankets, I slowly assess and consider getting up or just staying put. Mike wanders by and I speak to him. Commenting that he’s glad I’m still alive, he moves on. Do I metamorphose into a living being getting up and getting dressed or do I stay in suspended animation and hope to drift back to sleep. There are things to do, Always, but the thought of “hamster sized snowflakes” (per last night’s weathercaster), immobilizes me in my cocoon. Suspended in time, preferring not to look at the clock, luxuriating in the ability to stay put until finally my brain says “enough, you need to get up and take care of things”.

Still. Sitting at the table, drinking tea, willing my body to wake up enough to eat some breakfast and get dressed. Never a morning person, but often now more productive checking emails and messages before getting dressed then after, for that signals it’s time to MOVE. To leave the house, and join society in the rat race of life.  Once that movement kicks in, the time to myself is gone.

Time to sit and contemplate and be grateful for the day ahead and that possibilities it brings and what I can do with it. To watch the birds and listen to their songs. To wonder with elation at the buds on the trees signally spring and the tiny shoots coming up in the garden, or, as on today, the stark branches of the trees covered with hamster sized snowflakes, I see in front of me as I look out the window watching the red cardinal flitting from branch to branch in the Oak, while the wrens, sparrows and bluebirds huddle on the feeders, greedily emptying them, knowing that, as the storm worsens, they also will seek shelter and need this meal to tide them over till they can venture out again.  A squirrel gets a sip of water from the birdbath before heading to his own nest in the tree above him, as I sigh, and put my cup on the counter and go to get dressed and start the day.

Dale Weir 

Psalm 57:8  Awake, my glory! Awake, harp and lyre! I will awaken the dawn.