22 February 2013
The fields seem to roll now with a green waver along the landscape.
Although the forecast called for rain and low temperatures, it seems to have subsided. As I lay here and stare out the window at the beauty that is the outside world, I hear the birds making their songs of a peaceful rising. I can see the growth in the large sycamore outside, as if it hit a spurt over the course of the night. The sky, blue now, has only few clouds that appear to be navigating their way in the opposite direction. As they start their slow approach to a place so far from me, they must know that today must be a good day. I smell the familiar smell of eggs and toast coming from the kitchen below and I can hear the breeze sifting through the trees as the whisper to me, "Good Morning, Alec."
Good Morning • Opuss № I