I sat on my porch early last Friday morning, writing my morning pages amidst a delectable showcase of weather on a finally-turning-to-Autumn morning in Bakersfield.  We get used to “hot” or “fog” rather than anything extraordinary, so it was exceptionally precious to be witness to such an animated display of natural forces.

I kept my face slightly upturned, not down towards the page, so that I could note anything intriguing that happened within my view. From my left eye, I noticed the almost golden laser light of the sun reflecting off bright white cumulus clouds. 

It was a cloud fissure – a breaking apart so that the brilliant blue of the sky beyond the clouds shone through. I sat and watched. I stilled my pencil and simply breathed and watched, watched and breathed.

The clouds were textured pillows, like an exceptionally lush carpet for my mind and heart.  I looked into the blue and called out to God in gratitude and thanksgiving.

I wrote a Fibonacci:

Clouds
Burst
Open
I inhale
Silently witness
Sun reflects light in cloud fissure
Divinity pipeline is souly solely for me

The wind blew the fissure closed and whipped up very cold breath. In a snap water-hail was pelting the ground.

I wrote a haiku:

Hail bursts mother cloud
Icelette hops onto my leg
The rose buds remain

In a snap, the storm passed the porch.  Gentle rain took its place.

I wrote another haiku.

Bare feet on porch floor
Rain patters the concrete walk
Morning witness writes

I am blessed.  Another perfect day has begun.