Of morning wind

I stand on my porch and feel the whisk of wind on my face.  I close my eyes and surrender to the morning.  Noises drift around me:  the birds nesting in my gutter, the puttering of a small vehicle journeying northward, music floating through an open window.  I make no sound myself, still and steady on the cold wood beneath my feet.  My eyes open, and what I see pleases me.  I let the serenity fill me and carry it back into the house.  The morning wind follows me, flooding the living room with the scintillating scent of spring.  I close the door and move away, into the house, my heart still quiet, my mind still peaceful.  If I have any complaints, I have forgotten them at least for a little while.

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