Breakfast Date

An early appointment the day of the storm had me awake closer to daybreak than usual.

As I walked across the living room, I noticed that the leaves of the houseplant, that “found it’s window” several years ago were trembling.

Even though they calmed to stillness  when I stopped walking, I kept looking at the leaves.

I perceived that I saw them start to move again, growing, turning, yearning for pale dawn light.

Movement in the yard drew my eyes through the window, beyond the plant.

There, a sentinel doe draws attention from her young buck as they breakfast. His rack raw and white, velvet recently scraped, now ready for rut, ready for winter.

How much different can heaven be?