The Wren Is Calling

This morning it was green outside -- green from the rains we've had recently. The grass and the leaves of the trees and shrubs were glowing in the gentle light, and the air was still. Hidden somewhere in the canopy of an Ash tree overhead, a wren was singing. The day was just beginning.

It isn't morning, anymore. The day is done. And although it is still green outside, you couldn't tell if you stepped outside. The light is gone, but the air still is still, and somewhere in my head that wren is still singing, even though it is quiet outside.

That can mean only one thing: it is time to pry my fingers off this keyboard and join the others in this family who have long since gone to bed.

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