Thursday, June 19, 2025, 62.2*, 0735 Wet
The blinds are raised—but only on days when Soleil is away with her entourage. A few narrow paths still wind through lush green leaves, reaching toward a soft, silver sky. A rooster crows. An Ovenbird offers a chipped greeting. Coffee steams in a blue cup. The three have returned to sleeping.
Air holds tightly the humid blanket. No moths this morning, no June bugs. The pond lies still. Not even the stream stirs the pollen. And yet, something within us calls.
We rise; we move—to do the things that must be done.
ICM Photo: LJ Austin
