Sunday

The sweet citrus smell

Of orange blossoms

With the fresh dew

Of a new day.

The finished product of a Sunday

The quiet of early morning

Sunday,

Humans asleep

My parrot friends

Chirping away,

As I open the curtains

The sunlight streams in.

Shards of light

Play softly

With the rising steam

From my cup of

Rose petal green tea

The mind wanders

Over a palette of paint,

The canvas is empty

And inviting.

Not just yet though

Let me enjoy this moment

Fully.

Let me sip this tea

In full awareness

Of the rains that

Fed it

The sun that led it

Up, out of

The earth that grew it

The air that blew life

Through it

The ether that brought it

All together to me

At this moment

In my hands

I hold the work

Of miracles

And contemplate a new day.

I am just a composer of words,

An observer, an admirer,

It’s the symphony of senses

That create the whole play.