The Night and Morning

I spent a restless night.

Home late, a meeting where I lost my temper.

Very unruly of me, but I am a human being.

I was so upset that I told my lover to join me in bed early, because I would fail to sleep.

I did sleep, in his arms. Its pleasure to sleep with one who loves you. To curve in the security of another’s arms. To know peace with his quiet breathing, and revel in the love of another.

But I still woke too early, and lay in bed. The mind in turmoil. So much turmoil that for the first time in a long while the calm to write deserted me. I felt like muse was gone.

The alarm found me ready to get out of bed. I did, readily.

And the morning.

Getting out, seating on the verandah, listening to the birds sing, reading poetry. A peace, a calm stole into my heart. A calm that had eluded me for too long.

I know I am biased.

I just cannot help it. Listening to the bird song, straining to pick out one perfect note, and let it down into my very soul. Noting the various other birds, the orchestra, the weave. It is beautiful.

So beautiful it brings tears to my eyes. Of joy, of peace, of calm.

I read some very beautiful poetry, and appreciated it. But it was all like the background, the setting of the beautiful garden I live in contributed its essence to the noticing, the appreciation. Words fail me.

I am thankful that I am alive. I am thankful that I am alive another day.

In the very early morning, it seemed to promise a bright day. But our weather is mercurial. It promises rain at the moment. I will not be surprised if it is blazing hot in the afternoon.

I am alive, and I am thankful.

GayUganda