Alive

I, just this minute, came in from a stroll to the post box. This, the first morning that does not find me engaged in a routine dictated by work requirements, is an opportunity to allow myself no focus at all. I slowly ambled out to the Avenue, amidst a thickness of Life that could be sliced with a bread knife. Living on a lake, I am privy to the awakening chorus of creatures that would not be known to those occupying a habitat sans frogs, crickets, or even alligators.

Such a ruckus of melded contributions they all offer to this new day. A day that, to their sensibilities, is no different than any of millennia of others. They are neither happy nor sad in the pending sunrise. Far too busy with their instinctively demanded duties and needs, they are singing, croaking, and chirping their individual parts in this morning symphony with a blissful ignorance of the rapture that is mine in listening to them. They know not of my comfort in wrapping my senses in the blanket of their presence. My satisfactions in the eternal reliability of their concert of life is of no matter to them.

And in their exercises in living, they each, in their own particularly unique, and individual style and form, know no inhibitions or limitations that a performer might have if aware of an attentive audience. They simply sound off with all that is their nature. And I soak it up as a Spiritual sponge in want of a filling. Frogs of wide variety, birds of all description, insects galore, and even the occasional gator, saturate the atmosphere with their announcements of being alive. Which fills me with joy in being alive.

Good morning Dear One. I love You.