The mornings here are beautiful...not many places with nice view of the sky anymore.

The mornings are mine. People get up late around here. In the pre-dawn light only the morning call of the birds (and boy, are they loud) remind you that you aren't walking in a dream.

Even now, though, the day rushes to catch up with me, as if I'm a fish that slipped the net. With all the haste of our frenetic lifestyle it careens up to engulf the little peace that I've found in the mornings.

Mornings are sacred. When you wake up, you think about what's most important to you. Or you should try to, at least. With nothing else clawing at your attention, you can turn it over and perhaps see it for what it is - beautiful or not.

Good morning!

The air seems fresher, every breath more alive after a nice jog in the morning. Maybe that's the way it is because you're taking more from the world. Maybe you feel so good because when your body demands that extra from the air to feed your lungs, from the ground to support your steps, it is there.

Perhaps that's the way it is with other things as well...


Good morning.