Quiet Time

My quiet time doesn't operate by the clock. It runs by the sun, or lack of sun actually. It starts in the mornings with my first cup of coffee. The house is quiet, which is a good start.The true start is out doors in the pre-dawn mountain air. A few stars still hang in the western sky. All is quiet unless you pay close attention. Very few telltale birds are awake yet. A cow bawls lowly to her calf. I can hear a distant coyote. The two-lane highway, one mile away, is empty.

My cup is now half empty or half full, whatever the case may be. In the distance a single pair of headlights are visible, the same ones seen on other quiet mornings. A nameless neighbor, no doubt beginning a commute to a workplace. His automobile's headlights turn into taillights and soon disappear. Far enough away that no sound ever reached my ears.

A cup that is now nearly empty is still warming my hands. The eastern sky is a little bit lighter now and a few trucks have gone by on the highway. They don't realize they are putting an end to my quiet time. The magic nearly gone, I take one last deep breath and know I'll be back tomorrow. Until then, I'm grateful for my quiet time today.