Morning

It is never too late to be what you might have been.

George Eliot
This morning I saw the sun as it
rose over the far buildings. Is
light always lifting this way? Never
have I stood, rapt, at this window. Too
distracted, busy, late
for this quotidian blessing to
touch me, remind me to be
alive with what
is.  You know you
can go a whole life and might
not see this, know you are loved, have
always been.

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