There is something about the mountain air that makes me come alive. Something about the songbirds. Something about the invisible rain.
Mornings are best spent alone in reflection. Let your skin breathe and soak in the glittery sun. Let it feel the papery leaves spilling their sweet drops of dew onto the heavy, dark earth. I am thankful for the new mercies of this morning. Thankful for the silence and the solitude.
Time seems to slow here, and I wish not to disrupt my peace with my thoughts, which are often so bound to yesterdays and tomorrows.