Morning

Quiet and dark, but getting lighter.

The wind is playing, making the last leaves dance once last time before taking their final flight down to a soggy rest.

Geese chatter in the distance, and the wind chime dings out a melancholy randomness that speaks to my soul. It's clear notes remind me of all the other times I've visited with the wind, letting it blow through my hair, meander through my soul, revitalizing my mind with some sort of wild freedom that is only a whisper.

Yeah, it's quiet on my balcony as the light's rays struggle and weakly break through the thick blanket of clouds, lightly touching the tops of the giant firs swaying along with the wind's song. The branches have a music of their own; it is recorded in the stormy parts of my mind, mimicking the rhythm and intensity.

The wind carries with it the waves and misty shadows of the ocean - my old friend calls to me from the distance. My mind is carried along like a lone gull riding the current, only marginally in control of it's destiny. The ancient voice of the shore says 'come walk the sand, let me buffet you clean of your worry, your care. Come close, surrender yourself to my timelessness; throw open your arms with abandon, take in my uncontrolled song and make it your own. Come and be with me, feel me...be me.'

And the wind chime continues, playing and swaying to it's own tune as the night becomes day.