Air.

Crisp and clean, clear and cool.

The scent of clean air, nothing like it.

It fills my lungs and delights the senses.

Trees in the wind, blowing this way and that.

Shaking off the dew and breathing as they will.

First morning light and a new day comes.

What will it hold.

We will find the answer in the gentile blowing wind.

 

I am often plagued with insomnia. Maybe this is a good thing, at least for writing.

I got up one morning before the sun, not my best time.

I opened the bathroom window and marveled at how the morning air felt.

I moved to a smaller town in Washington state in late September of 2004

from Lake Elsinore California. The air in Southern California is less than fresh most of the time. I have more than my fair share of lung problems and the pollution was so hard on me.

You get the prettiest bright orange sunsets in stead of blues and gold in So Cal.

I don’t see the orange here in Washington. Not often

For that I’m glad and my lungs are ever so much better.