Time

 A silent stirring. Was it the wind or a bird outside my window? The morning talking, waking me from slumber, pressing me to begin, begin! This day, this gorgeous day, another new & precious day to write upon! What treasure will I find? What secret longing to fulfill? Oh yes, I have the down days, the gray days, the days I question. But as I grow older, ripe with experiences, my time more precious, the less I want drama, the less sucking me down into black holes, I come forward from those times with a renewed vigor for the simple, unadorned pleasures.