The lop-sided moon hangs just above the cherry tree in the morning sky. Night clouds are scattering revealing a hint of promising blue skies. The thermometer reads 41°. I tuck my hands into my long sleeves.
Heaviness in my legs remind me I am in the greatest part of my marathon training. 40 mile weeks tend to do that to me. Despite it all, the running feels good. My pace is easy as I make my way through the sleeping neighborhood.
My heart is weighted for friends I know are broken and hurting. I ask God some specific things and thank Him for being bigger than it all. The birds sing joy and I listen; their song getting louder as I approach the densely tree lined roadway. A motorist drives by and waves.
A farm hand is singing a Spanish melody. I quickly conclude the song is well loved as his voice loudly spills from the slightly ajar windows of the milking parlor. The smile on my face can not be hidden as I question if he realizes his audience is greater than the bovine standing before him in the barn. I wonder what the song is about.
Freshly cut hay rests in neatly lined rows in the field. With no threat of rain in the sky, the farmer seems content to let it lie just a day longer. Patches of hay stand uncut as a reminder a wet spring leaves sections too muddy to mow.
Nearing the end of my run, I spot a finch perched on a barbwire fence. The bird eyes me carefully but does not move though I am just inches from her. She chirps at me as if to say "Good morning" before taking flight. I watch the freedom in her flying.
The moon has faded and the sun is rising as I finish my run. The day lays in front of me with unopened promises. My heart still heavy for my hurting friends, but starting my day in nature has given me renewed breath on a new day; a day in which the birds are heard singing.
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