Early Morning Merriment

The mist of the morning bathes the riverbanks, whetting my appetite for nature I sit here letting the early morning tease my ears with the sweetest harmony, as little angels flutter on wings, darting to and fro in early morning merriment. Oh, this morning is in motion, swaying to the music of nature, as I breathe the crisp air enchanting my senses. The poet in me is awaken as nature’s choir touches my ear, lifting my spirit to soar to its fullest heights. I notice the wild bounding of the buck deer and the gray squirrel rises from his bed to meet a new day and awaken to a free serenade of sweet sound. Can this poet be true to himself or will he refuse and spoil the moment? How can I sit here on this bank and look across the mighty Mississippi River with eyes and ears and not perceive creation? Nature sings to my senses. It anchors me to my purest thoughts and guides the heart and soul of my being. I have learned to look on nature, not as I did in the fantasies of youth, but in the solitude of a man, something far deeper that elevates my thoughts; my senses honed to a fine edge, my spirit impaled. I have fears that even in my serenity the words will not come, leaving nature to write for me. I know it will never betray me who loves it and has reaped its beauty for my own use. I dwell in the light of the rising sun, breathing the crisp air, surrounded by the best nature has to offer. I know God is blessing me in this place where I sit. I hear his voice in the songs of birds, his breath in the breeze and his hand on my solitude. It cheers my faith. His presents is here on this bank and it stirs my soul.