It’s new every morning.
Every morning the air stirs fuller than yesterday as wind plays her woodwinds and the sound deepens as leaves grow. Baby squirrels strum branches beneath tiny feet and the scrape of their scamper is as beads sliding down the tube of a rain instrument. And when it does rain, oh, the drip! The barefoot patter on wet ground, the lightest skip across pond’s surface, the tangled race down jasmine vines draped!