Outside the open window
The morning air is all awash with angels.Richard Wilbur
Mornings here at the farm are a quiet affair.
The sunlight slants golden fingers that edge out the darkness and soften the gloom of dawn until you can make out the shapes of trees and cows.
Birds call to each other. Quietly. They don’t just burst into song. They gently shake out their feathers and only when the sun rises above the horizon do they start to sing.
It’s a time for thinking, and for connection with the land, and with the Universal energies that you might call God.
It’s a time for writing, and making pots of tea. It’s a time for dreaming and planning and imagination.
It’s a time for gentle walks to visit the trees and the river and the vegetable gardens.
I love mornings here at my farm. I wish you were here to share the magic with me, but know I sent you love and healing in my morning meditation. Go gently today, and treat yourself with kindness.
5 thoughts on “The Quiet Of Morning”
There is one bird who starts before anyone else in our garden.Three short identical phrases, then a single slightly different one. Repeat.I love it
The last weeks have been horrible. The last days, ridiculous. I had to open my email this morning and found this post and cried. Thank you. Very much.
Nicole – so beautifully written 🙏.
Oh Nicole, you have summed up the beauty of the morning to me. Thank you xx