I’ve walked by this building a million times, and at dusk two days ago, I saw it for the first time.
Today I notice that the glass windows that wrap the brick building look like the Caribbean Sea. How could I have missed it all these years? I stand there and I lose myself in the warmth of that image—of the crystalline waters—as the brisk day gently slaps my face frigid.
And I notice the small leaves that propeller down like tiny moths as cold breath leaves my mouth; and I notice the crows in the distance discussing the days events amongst each other, coordinating where their next meal will come from.
I look up one more time, rest my eyes upon the great pine tree, right as a single crow takes flight and finds a spot within its cozy branches.
And I say goodbye to the stark white beech trees in repose. I say goodbye to these tiny significant simplicities that fill my evening with joy…until tomorrow and the next day...and the next moment...simple gifts to be found each time I go to sleep and each time I wake, grateful for each day of breath.