6am dawn light falling in bare toes. I am 7 years old, drinking rays. Great waves of light, as if raying at me. At 7, we watch, run, sit, cartwheel in these miracles.
At least once a week I return to that time, those vertical acres of Light, from toes upwards, into the sky. This morning was another visit. Like a prayer. Not asking Favors, not questioning the Light falling where It will, not demanding demands, nothing. Just breathing Its breath. Sipping its Dew. Reminding my spirit, whenever there’s prayer: we are more than conquerors, we are vertical acres.
age 7 ish: I re-live that one.
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