Sunday, sweet Sunday. It’s early. Even the air is resting at this time of day. The sun hasn’t been up long enough to warm it and cause a breeze. It sits. Not waiting. Not anticipating. It’s simply there. I love this time of day before the hustle and bustle begins. The quiet and the June flowers blooming across from my window bring to mind the first stanza of Robert Herrick’s Counsel to Girls
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a flying;
And this same flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying.
I’m corrupting his thought by only quoting part of the poem but in this time of Climate Change and Global Warming I take comfort in the idea that mother nature and human nature haven’t really changed. Each minute is linked to the next and soon the sun will warm the air and it will stir and the day will begin just as it did when Herrick lived in the 1600s. (Written with a thank you to college English teachers everywhere.)
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