The air is crisp Sunshine streaming through the window With a bite A gentle breeze plays with the curtain.
Trees jut up on The horizon, a row of clouds Blanket them Shaded dark as they ready for rain.
Two birds, a third Appear in view as they frolic Across the sky A bar of blue above the trees.
Clouds soft like down Meditative, lulling me and Invite me in Reframing my grateful mind.
Lori Cole
This article appears in Meeting in the Middle at Aromas Café.