We're All Essential Right Now
Serenity lives in the moments before dawn. I know this, despite never having been an enthusiastic early riser. Perhaps I spent too many years haunting the late-night world, but my body typically pleads for "just one more hour" or so whenever I respond to the demands of a typical busy day. Yet I recognize the value of getting up early and dwelling for a few moments in the stillness of morning. I drove my wife to work in the darkness today and returned home for coffee and a bit of her marvelous Christmas biscotti. Now I sit beside the window which overlooks our back yard patio, gazing at a forest newly draped in winter white. The sun isn't up yet, but the approaching light has washed the horizon in pastel pink, purple and warm taupe. As I note this a mourning dove lands a few feet from me. She's extraordinary, dressed in the same hues, such a gentle and unassuming presence as she bobs across the cement looking for seed. Her cousins are gathering at Bonnie