The Porch
by Fran Thomas

Early morning sun breaks through the sentinel of trees lining the creek's edge.
The kind-hearted trills of gold finch announce their arrival.
I marvel as the flashes of yellow
flit between the safety of the pink blossomed cherry tree and busy rush-hour feeder.
Mere moments pass.
The sun is higher in the sky, and
I sigh as I realize the morning has passed.
It is not one of loss or discontent,
but one of utter peace.
I raise my cooling coffee cup to the sky,
and know that god is with us.

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