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I am blessed to have my retirement home in a beautiful place.  Sometimes it is overwhelmingly so. (Click on photo to see its source; I didn’t take it.)

Twilight in the Wilderness, (1860), Cleveland ...

Predawn Twilight
©B. Luceigh, 3/2012

In the predawn twilight
low clouds
empty of the night’s rain
float before the mountains
and over the river
within my view.

Cozy behind glass panes
I observe this mystical panorama
of Nature’s presence
while nearby wet trees
announce their silhouettes
before the mist.

As the sun slowly raises its voice,
the breeze selects white to blow,
unveiling glimpses of mountains and river,
both white-capped
as if absorbing their color
from the thinning clouds.

River depth, mountain height, valley width,
the sun’s timing restores dimensions
as greens and blues reflect into my eyes
the warm embrace of her morning glow.

In these moments my heart connects
to Nature being glorious Nature,
and I serve as a grateful observer
of her first gift of this day.

But soon will I forget her
as I drink her oranges,
scramble her eggs,
walk with her dog
and breathe her moistened air?

Or later will I forget her
when I squeeze my plastic bottle,
open my can of soup,
replace my lightbulb
and empty my trash?

Moments of decision
are offered throughout each day,
but will I make them today
with remembrance
of Nature’s generosity,
or will I pretend we are separate
and my choices
will not make her scream?

In the predawn twilight,
from these intimate moments
shared with Nature,
what have I learned if not this:
Nature can only sustain her gift of life with me
if I sustain the friendship of mine with her.

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