Poems From The Porch
The Magic of the Morning
Yellow speckles the black velvet cape of the fairy-nymph butterfly who is dancing around the wisteria to open the portal to the day.
The creativity genie is released when I turn back the cover of his journal home and wait for inspiration to arise.
The chimes are vigorously ringing out a profuse blessing whose vibrations fill the air with the anointing of appreciation.
The hummingbirds flutter their excitement in response and chirp eagerly as they approach the feeders.
Not so far away, a rooster is announcing, “Today is here!”
Nothing productive will make this moment more satisfying than the gratitude that it is present.
The efficiency of getting things done feeds a momentary high, like savoring a candy bar, but cannot replace the full-bodied enjoyment that simply resting in the now provides.
After all, life is a series of nows, and that is really all it is.
Did you think that it was a progression of one building block stacked upon another to arrive at Destination Accomplishment or Possession Paradise? These are illusory goods sold to those who feel the need to try to justify their existence.
The magic of the morning is upon me,
so please excuse me while I close the cover on the genie
to join the cat who is here biting my pants
because he wants to play with me now.