In the season of sun, early morning light splashes down to the garden floor from a canopy above, and each hour fills the air with a different shade of green. I listen to the garden. As the sun rises, the presence of quiet follows me as I walk. It is nice to be accompanied by such an unobtrusive partner; an easy companion.
Morning opens to a larger view. Edges blurred become crisp and solid, the obscured becomes real. And sounds arise. The still becomes motion, and I hear rustling of leaves. A small movement of life on the garden floor becomes a bird looking for food. I walk towards the bamboo as wind animates its stems and leaves, and they whisper. The air warms and surrounds me.
I miss summer.