It is overcast today on Halcyon Pond. After day upon day of brutal sun and belligerent heat, we have a gentle day. My senses, no longer under assault, can wander and explore.
It is blissfully quiet. I sink into the surrounding sounds of nature. Birds call across the forest. I hear the joyous hum of the bumble bee staggering through the lotus, drunk on nectar. A hummingbird buzzes by, cutting the silence quietly, but with an energy not unlike the kingfisher.
The breeze is light, making only the oaks sing. Theirs is a lyrical song, juxtaposed against their majesty. So unlike the pines, whose sighing song evokes an ancient melancholy. It rained last night; the earth and I sit in quiet thanksgiving, recalling the raucous partying of the frogs last night. I wonder sometimes what it would be like to hear these sounds for the first time.
Colors are more distinct today, not overwhelmed by the white-hot light of the sun. I can drink in the deep, rich red of the hibiscus blossom. And marvel at the delicate beauty of the butterfly.
As though in answer to my thanks, a gentle rain begins to fall. I close my eyes and feel the embrace of each raindrop, imagine myself like the earth, drinking each drop, being nourished, wondering where it started its journey from earth to sky and back again. Wondering what nectar from which distant lands it brings to me.