Noticing

I stood on the front porch of the cabin we were renting during spring break with our daughter and her family. Reflexively, I took a deep breath of coolness and exhaled slowly. The full moon was rising over the outline of an old cotton gin nearby. Frogs and crickets eased into their evening conversation, cranking up the volume as darkness settled in. 

A train whistle signaled its approaching presence.

Any other evening at our home in the city, I would no doubt have been indoors. The moon would have knocked, but I wouldn't have answered. There was supper to fix and Wheel of Fortune to watch.

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Early the next morning, my gaze followed the stream of sunshine across the wooden floor, up and out the window. An invitation.

With one flick of the quilt, I shunned my methodical morning routine of exercise, meditation, coffee, breakfast, shower, makeup, wardrobe selection and To Do list. . . slid on shoes, grabbed my jacket and camera (phone). Time was a-wastin'!

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I had seen similar sights before, of course,
 barn, fence, open field, grove of pine, flower and robin.
I had felt the freshness of dawn.
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Yet, somehow, I had forgotten
Or had forgotten to notice.

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*Coulter Farmstead cabin is located near Washington State Park, Arkansas