In the gray light of the morning there surfaces a question of time.
The beep of the coffeemaker brings the signal--
yet the home remains undisturbed.
The canyon promises moments of rest;
leaves swaying in fluid rhythm;
fog looming in faraway hills.
The lines that divide day and night are blurred;
but still, the morning invites the peace I seek.
It brings hints of the subtle and gentle hope of His Promises;
yes, they are new every morning.