Beautiful

 "For each age is a dream that is dying,

Or one that is coming to birth.

And therefore to-day is thrilling

With a past day's late fulfilling ..."

 O'Shaughnessy's ODE

Today is October the 8th, 2022.  I near my 86th birthday. 

With a cup in hand, I take my folding chair to my “front porch” —  actually the small area afront my apartment door, an extension from the sidewalk, toward my door, that is shielded from rain by a small roof.

There I ensconce myself, and sit to eagerly greet the morning sun. For it is a conquest of my fate to be so visited. Of those who shared my life here in Victoria during my ten years of living and working here, but a handful, to my awareness, remain.

"For each day is a day that is given, 

And one that is gratefully ta'en.

  

Against the end of life so thrilling, 

Nor worth a pence or shilling …"

wmb  Oct 2022

I am rebuked by the neighbor's dogs, restrained by their leash, out and about for their morning stroll and evacuation. I am surveyed and assessed by the collection of six resident ducks, wandering from the shores of their pond.  Deciding that I am more threat than promise, they retreat to the safety of their water. 

A breeze, 65º. refreshing, mild, gently caresses my cheek. Spotty cloud cover partially obscures the sun. Its warmth is variable, but welcome and satisfying. 

As was the coffee. The uncovered bottom inside my cup informs me that 'tis time . . . to repair to my recliner, and check the morning news.  I despair of any but ongoing aggravation, contentiousness and threats in the headlines.  But I must ...

It is a beautiful day!