High above the clouds, the mountain snow’s wintery chill still hangs
upon the breeze that greets me as I step out into a misty April morning.
A gentle rain strums a rhythmic tune upon the hanging branch of a nearby tree as a distant dog announces the passing of some event noticed by only him.
The call of the crow now lends his voice to the melody as a choir of geese greet the morning with their chatter as they pass upon the wing.
The faint sound of a passing train signals its presences now bidding farewell to this town as it passes through to an unknown destination.
The hum of some distant traffic promises that this morning’s local traffic, not far behind, will soon add its voice in harmony.
I am drawn back inside by the wafting aroma of fresh brewed coffee and frying bacon with the scene etched vividly into my mind to be recalled at some future time.
This morning the sun will not shine, cloaked by the clouds hanging above. This morning the birds will not sing, hidden away seeking shelter from the storm.
This morning a lucky few will be greeted by this misty morning and recognize the beauty of the melody. All the others will only hear the din and only see some more of the same damned rain.
Are you one of the many or one of those lucky few?