My Holy Moments

 

Today I went for my walk before I had my breakfast. It was 53F and the sun was trying to peek behind the clouds. A light brown, tall poodle lumbered out from a door and ran ahead of me. I heard a young woman called out, “Mozart, Mozart, come back.” The woman and I exchanged pleasantries. I remarked that she has a beautiful dog. I met a walker with his dog, a smaller one thanMozart. We greeted each other, Good morning. They were walking on opposite direction.

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I continued my walk to the river. A few fishermen were socializing among themselves. Their lines resting on the riverbank.

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Two towering palm trees across each other on the sidewalk greeted passerby’s. They remind me of a warmer place somewhere. The yucca plants did not give me a similar memory. 

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Perhaps because of a rain for the last 2 days the street was fairly clean. The birds sang joyfully.

 

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By the time I turned around to walk back home the sun has burst out. The top of the hills has risen above the clouds. The breeze 55F grazed my face like a whisper. 

My morning of holy moments.

how love can make you cry

The room never looks the same
the light like a long thinker finds
its way to the farthest corner
you walk to the window
to catch the last ray of light
coloring the flock of birds
flying in a straight line
you turn your head around
as if remembering something
questions your lips can not utter
you tilt glass to your lips
champagne bubbles rise
like small thoughts
of love in audible whispers.

note: Lara Fabian sings Je T’aime