Barbara's Muse

It's early Sunday morning.  The sky's crimson glow highlights the soaring clouds as they rise in the eastern sky. The river is a mirror of the shore on the other side broken only by the occasional family of ducks out for their early morning swim. The sound of a woodpecker in a distant tree indicates his hunt for breakfast has begun.  The cry of a lonely loon adds to the early morning peacefulness.

The little chick-a-dee-dee cry indicates the feeder is empty. She perches on the lamp post above the feeder impatiently waiting for new seeds to fill her tummy. The little drone of a hummingbird indicates morning has broken and the day is now coming alive.

As the sun rises higher in the sky, the dark row of trees on the other side take on a distinct shape.  The river becomes a bed of sparkling gems as a gentle breeze ripples the water's surface.  The dew drops on the roses glisten in the sunlight creating little prisms of light.

The sound of an occasional car trespasses in the natural stillness.  A dog's sharp bark breaks the beauty of the early morning quiet.  Then all is blissfully quiet again broken only by the occasional chirping of little birds in the nearby trees.

This is my Sunday morning haven of rest.  “Thank you, Lord, for your beautiful creation on this earth.”  Psalm 104

Respectfully submitted

By Barbara Richard, July 2022