March 18, 2012 – Sunday

I awoke to blue sky viewed through web of limbs and twigs. Tender green leaves bursting from twisted branches of our oak. Once, on a moonlight night, I awoke from a deep sleep and thought those very branches, fanciful stone tracery. I was an ocean away in some Gothic cloister. This morning they speak of here, of now and of every new Spring I have experienced, of each awaking to a new day and of the earth’s endless cycles of death and rebirth. Today I am aware of the earth reborn: Light defining, light reflecting. Across the small valley, the yellow of an east facing wall, bright and clear. The north wall, without warm sunshine, is dark, but yellow still. That house once the drabbest of grays, painted now the color of sunshine, reflecting sunshine, exciting happiness in the eye as only vivid color can. Sunlight paints the world in splendid color just as night erases it. And lying in bed, I see there the edge of the lavender study, the green roof overhang with its blue fascia. Just out the red framed door, furniture of yellow, turquoise, red, green. My mind knows more color awaits, revealed now by sunlight, but beyond my view, just beyond the bend of the light.

The wind that dried the hanging windsock, twists its dangling colored ribbons, sways the oak’s branches with their bright leaves and tosses chime against chime. I hear clank upon clank, tone upon tone. The air, cool in my nostrils, fresh. I breathe in youth. Blue sky, billowy white clouds pass beyond the tree. We need your water and not your beauty. You exist independent of our needs. You upon whom life depends, created by sunlight, moved by wind are like me, mere molecules of water driven by unseen forces. You appear and disappear by chance.

I reach for Michael. Feel his flesh and under it, his bones. He is here now. His breathes easily. I find joy at his side. A cat sleeps between us, another runs across the bed and a third looks at birds flitting from branch to branch. Today, yes today is here and with it, I have one less day to live. At some time I will exist no more, lost to a body that will inevitably run down or perhaps to some accident of fate. Sunshine is eternal. Flesh is not. Can awareness of the moment, make life more enjoyable, more precious? I will drink my coffee, read the paper, see the larger world of troubles and forget color, the tone of chimes, the air in my nostrils — forget the now as the clock-sun measures out my life.