The mornings and evenings seem to be the sun’s fastest track. As I write this, it is morning, and the scene outside changes with each glimpse through the window. Not one second ago, the pines were not visible in the dark. Now they brush the sky with their bristles as if blending a pink hue into the gray. The pond is a gentle mirror in one moment, a rippling bathtub for the ducks the next. Egrets in flight are snowy white against the dark shadows still in the forest as if to tell those creatures still sleep-drugged in the darkness that morning is here.
Wake up! Wake up! It’s a new day and time to thank Him who gave it to us!
Squirrels chatter their praise; birds sing hymns as they flit from tree to tree; morning glories open their royal blue with a slow lazy yawn. How God must love this time of day.
Quicker than I can blink, the sun is higher on the horizon, fine-tuning what a moment ago was blurred and softened by night-kissed shade. And each moment I take to add a word here deprives me of the thrill of awakening.
Wake up! It’s morning!