Cool mornings are therapeutic.
When the temperature drops below 60, and the sun still rises, it's the perfect prescription for coffee, flannels, paper and pen on the porch.
The morning noises flush out doubts; the clear sky going on for miles acts as the visual sign that the torment of thoughtful days is clearing away. Not that the storms won't rise again, but as for now, it is well.
The shiver that sets in, I know is good. Hot coffee can't or won't subside it; for that I am grateful, because the shivers shake loose the deep-set talons of the solitude and voicelessness that follows the Words.
The talons sink through the surface so effortlessly, unnoticed, and grip right into the marrow of my being. they inject doubt, questions, near-apathy, and reminders of the idol of self like venom; bringing back the darkness of shame once again.
Routine and schedules are tossed into the wind, as the soul-focus is clinging to Life, and the hope that Life brings.
The cool morning brings strength. It slows the black blood of the demons within, sedated by the songs of the birds in their excited chatter.
The Sun rises higher in the sky, warming away the shivers, piercing all the darkness away; reminding me of the Truth that cannot and will not escape me.
I am free for a new day.
