The chilly Sunday dawn dances with a magical quality. Bright red cardinals compete for fat sunflower seeds. Red-winged blackbirds, chickadees, goldfinches, and a downy woodpecker flit between the feeder and the evergreens. Squirrels chase each other through the yard, fighting over every titbit, they remain oblivious to the hawk floating in lazy circles in the crystal blue sky. It may not be Walden, but it is my slice of nature carved from a suburban landscape.
A frosty mist clings to the ground, laying heavy on autumn air, as the weakening sun promises to hold off the rain and warm the day. The fresh morning brims with pledges of freezing rain, a snowy winter, and long nights in front of the fire. A deep breath, a hot cup of coffee, and a soft breeze erases worry and clears the mind. At last, the ideas flow.
How do you spend your Sunday mornings?
Keep on writing.
Jo Hawk The Writer