In the beginning,
Yesterday,
The sun gazed somewhat magnificently, from a bright blue sky, and
My gaze fixed tightly on the cherry tree in the garden next door.
I am certain, as I gaze in wonder, that the day is perfect.
There have been warmer days. Oh yes. On those, I would not leave the coolcave
That is the thick inner room of my English cottage, until the sun had passed over.
There have been days in more exotic places. Forgive me.
If I am, right now, standing besides a cascade in a rain forest, near Oahu
Or leaning over the Tsitsa Falls, near Mtata, with my Xhosa friends.
I am moving now to the school house in Talkeetna, Alaska, listening to the
Shrill Klaxon of the lumber train, from the security of the town library.
Oh yes, I have other lives to bring, and have lived them in superb gratitude.
But yesterday, I spoke God's language, on a frighteningly warm March Day when the sun shone brazenly from a bright sky.
And in that moment, the cherry tree was perfection, and my Self rose, delighted, in thanksgiving.
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