Zoysia shouldn't still be green and thriving mid-November, and yet, I will have to mow the lawn soon. Honey bees and bright yellow, cloudless sulphur butterflies frolic on an island of dandelions that have claimed their territory amid the limited expanse of the backyard—falling leaves a juxtaposition. Clouds overhead, dollops of bright white and stormy grey, fight for dominance after a long rainy night. Gusting winds riding the tail end of that front, share the promise of cooler days with each exhale of its breath. The waxing full moon will rise later and cover the night in the softness of her glow. Nocturnal creatures will awaken from their hovels and scour the landscape for sustenance to sustain them for a winter that is running behind schedule, and they are grateful for the reprieve.
Observations made in a moment of standing in stillness, in silence, in reverence of the beauty and poetry of this miraculous world in which we are living is my soul food and every day, I feast.
Vibrate higher.
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