A wait, a call of time to sip the wine of the Divine.
A porch upon creation, a particle of mass synchronization.
Blueberries ripe in the season, a time and a place.
The early morning chill of a hot summer day.
A squirrel tenuously dancing upon thin branches.
A red-headed woodpecker hammering away.
A neighbor passing walking a pair of elegant striding greyhounds.
Sparrows a plenty, tiny and nervous, fluttering, stealing amongst one another.
The silence underneath.
Winged ones chirping, crickets sounding, distant traffic roaring, a car rushing past, the sounds of a city near and within.
Something beneath and above, surrounding, carousing, caressing, immersing, infusing,
It is there, the fabric of all constructing, the knitting of finer threads in conjunction,
Consubstantial, the kiss of a presence, the whispering upon the wind of intentions, a longing blossoming into being.
It is time to leave, to start a new day.