The deer are at woods edge, browsing quietly and peacefully. Their long slender necks reach for the tender twigs, and they tug and chew contentedly. Nature enjoys early summer morns; before the sun radiates all its strength upon the Earth, and the business of daytime marches in. It is a beautiful morning, I might try to write today. I haven't written much lately.
Creative writing requires a free mind. Like a river that flows through the valley, touching every rock and tree trunk along the banks and rolling uninhibited toward the sea, the writing part of me must be able to flow, amble, or rush headlong into spaces, without dam or obstruction. There have have been many obstacles to clear thinking lately, and my mind has not been free enough to put pen to paper.
As I roll down the country road in my truck this morning, with the windows down, the moon roof open, and the wind blowing across my cowboy hat, I feel rested and alive. The sun slowly burning through the mists pledges a new day. Every sunrise brings hope and promise; every sunset offers rest and renewing.
I feel a little water trickling over the dam, and think that perhaps soon my mind will flow, and my senses will be invigorated.
For now, I will enjoy this day of days, this quiet peaceful drive. I will soak in the cool wind, the smell of fresh cut hay, and let the quiet simple strength of nature empower me.
