Wednesday Morning

Over the million cells that make you you
What suns have set, what moons known wax and wane?
What stars conspired? What dawns, the darkness through,
Pierce with delight your dark oblivious brain?

What winds have sown their marvels patiently
On secret paths your untried feet would stray,
That you might lift proud eyes along the sky
And flower to beauty on some sun-white day?


What Suns? What Moons?, by Wade Oliver


I prefer not to wake up realizing all my dreams have been about work. Fortunately the morning sun on the trees across the marsh helped clear my mind for a few minutes, so I padded down the drive in my pjs to record it. Of course, all the deer that were part of the scene ran off in a huff because they don't like to have their photos taken. I think the extra, while a bit doctored, actually captures the feel of the scene a bit better. 

I have gone three days in a row driving all the way in to work without listening to anything on the radio, just thinking my own thoughts. It feels like an accomplishment somehow.