And that is just the point… how the world, moist and beautiful, calls to each of us to make a new and serious response. That’s the big question, the one the world throws at you every morning. “Here you are, alive. Would you like to make a comment?”
Some mornings it is impossible to stay a silent observer of the world. It demands a response.
The overnight wind and rain have pulled down nearly every leaf, the ground is carpeted with the dying evidence of last spring’s rebirth, the dropping temperatures robing the surrounding foothills and peaks in a bright new snow covering.
There can be no complacency in witnessing this startling transition in progress. It blusters, rips, drenches, encompasses, buries. Nothing remains as it was.
And here I am, alive.
Called to comment.
Dying to respond.