Bright shines the sun, robins three bounce on the ground, turning their heads, looking for breakfast. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, a raven flies over low. It is going to be a warm day, a day for a run or hike. Saplings which were not around last fall now are attacking the air, trying for their chance to join the forest. The cedars and oaks I celebrate, the small pines make me feel sad, a touch short life they will likely live when the bark beetle returns.

I am not very adept at early mornings. Seven o’clock I do great, six o’clock is wonderful, there are few times my mind works as well as it does at five in the morning. Three-thirty, however, is far too early, and I have not become good at waking and doing at such an hour. The time changed yesterday, spring forward, and my body knew it was supposed to do something different. Something happened which prompted a change of habits. The tendency should be to sleep later than I’ve been, as my body adjusted to changing clocks. It made a mistake this morning, waking me up earlier, much earlier.

The bounty of this was the moon, near full and very bright illuminating the living room, making shadows of the trees outside fall onto the furniture. I stood for a moment, got some water, and tried to read a while. That didn’t work, nor did sleep. Instead, I got up at four thirty, wrote a goodly amount, and then fell back into bed. A better sleep I haven’t had for a while. Lovely, encouraging, though now it is far too late for this present task.

There is a middle ground out there, and for some reason in all of life I have a difficult time finding it.

More writing, more meditating, more prayer and trust. That is the day. A change of pace yesterday helps me to focus this morning. I pray it goes along as well as I hope, same for everything.