Sometimes, when the cool morning breeze
is just right, all the noise in my mind is
napping, and I sit perfectly still in
the green slatted rocker on the
back porch, I hear a song
floating through the oak
trees down the hill.
It rises and falls like a lullaby sung
in a loving whisper as the infant\'s
eyelids give in to sleep. There are no
words, not even an easily discernible
melody. Some mornings I just want to
hum, be part of the song I do not
understand. An inherent invitation calls
me into the musical mystery.
I dared to try yesterday. As oak leaves shook
with delight at the wind\'s appearing, an
irresistible invitation became too
strong to ignore. I opened my
mouth to sing and breathed
in the missing pieces of
my soul.
I sit most mornings now on the back
porch anticipating the sun\'s welcome
arrival and those charming musical
notes dancing with oak leaves and eager
branches. I still don\'t know the song,
but it seems to know me.