I love these kinds of mornings,
clouds are heavy and gray,
it will inevitably rain.
The air is still and smells rich with soil
and of puddles in the forest.
The birds sing loudly and there is an eeriness to their song
in this slightly gloomy time.
It is still warm enough to drink my coffee outside,
but the coming rains nudge me back to my bed.
These mornings I feel safe and held.
I feel as though I live in a fortress,
surrounded by raw nature, snug in my bed.
I think this must be what heaven is like;
gentle and raw,
wild and calm.
I am blessed with a preview on mornings such as this.
There is a fellow who lives down my street.
Every morning he walks to the convenience store
to get himself a coffee.
The thing is he sings all the way…
at the top of this lungs.
It doesn’t matter how early it is…
The songs aren’t really recognizable,
he doesn’t sing very well,
but he sings loud and strong.
I adore it.
And each morning I look forward to his song
cutting through the silence,
singing me to hope.
Hope that we all will find our voice and share it with the world,
with the morning birds,
with neighbours we do not know.
I think heaven must be like this too.