There was a glorious sunrise over the Archipelago on the seventh day of Christmas.
Vibrant shades of crimson colored the sky behind the branches of the leafless trees and the angles of the rooftops still filled with night and silence, the dreams of sleepers in their beds.
When I opened one of the small windows in the dining room to look at it, a lone crow was calling in the distance.
I watched it fly for a moment, a fragment of the fleeing night against the morning colors and the curling columns of woolly white chimney smoke.
Morning time, the deep time when the quietude of the world pours into the mind and the soul. It connects me with what is important in my life. What I often overlook in the busy day that follows.
That moment made me realize that I am blessed.
That all things in my world are in their right place.
That the start of that day, and every day, is another opportunity to improve, perfect, accept, forgive or achieve.
That I should be grateful for each day and take advantage of every minute.
Prairie Beacon 