The Morning Falls Softly
Holding on to ephemerality

The morning falls softly on a dew-hushed world.
Drifting aimlessly in an ocean of bird song, I breathe in a mist kissed with orange blossoms and loamy earth.
A lone lobelia bobs in the barest of breezes, its tall, slender spine of a stalk barely able to hold up its crown.
Baby tears, tiny rounded leaves embedded in the spaces between the stepping stones, cry for the touch of the mist, which curls through the pines like fairies’ breath, dampening the irises’ papery petals, melting them towards the earth before their time, yet leaving their fuzzy tongues erect to taste the garden air a little longer.
I close my eyes and breathe it all in, wondering, wondering what the future will bring, but managing to hold on to the ephemerality of this moment.
Erika Burkhalter is a yogi, neurophilosopher, cat-mom, photographer, and lover of travel and nature, spreading her love and amazement for Mother Earth’s glories, one photo, poem or story at a time. (MS Neuropsychology, MA Yoga Studies). Erika is also an editor for Dharma Talk.
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Photo, poem and story ©Erika Burkhalter. All rights reserved.
