sweet gray morning

An hour alone in a coffee shop feels ridiculously indulgent.  Nevermind the mellow gray skies hanging low outside, the door propped open wide.  Nevermind the cool, fresh air, we'll happily leave sweaters and fleeces on, just order another hot americana and marvel and the soft voices, the lazy trickle of customers through the open door.  Greens are lush on the sidewalk of the flower shop across the street, the peonies and geraniums are brilliant in the muted light.

We happily bubble toward this new season, faces tilted up, raised to new rain, soft air, pale sunlight that makes us squint like old friends trying to place one another.  

This morning I ran for miles, climbed a small mountain or maybe a large hill.  Breathed in and out.  Felt like I was floating.  I want to absorb this precise beauty, this pace, to hold its quiet loveliness inside my chest and sip from it when I need it most.  When I'm rushed, or tired - maybe I can find this reservoir.

There are things I need to do this morning.  I need to find cowgirl boots to wear to a wedding this weekend.  I need to buy a new coloring book or two to help ease the drive.  I need to pick my car up from the shop.  Good little things.  Good little morning.