Morning

“Morning!” we call out in passing –
the dog walkers, the bicyclists,
the ambitious lady with her water bottles
and her sports bra, all out
unfortunately early to avoid the heat.
“Morning!” Not even
“Good morning,” which
could be an overstatement,
given the hour and the fact
that the world is on fire. It’s what
we have to offer. We have the gift
of a couple fresh hours,
the fact that we are out
moving through it,
a whiff of possibility, the reality
that our lives keep on
touching one another’s in the
tiniest of ways. Morning
is as good as word for it as any.

Lynn Ungar, July 8, 2024

…Morgen…Dia…Giornata…
On a German markplatz filling with farmers’ stalls for market day…mumbled by an elderly man in the small coastal fishing village on the Portuguese Camino…nodding to locals and those few fellow tourists at dawn on Florentine cobblestone streets.

This week a heat dome descended on my province. Sig was up early training Walker to become his name through neighborhood streets, quiet yet surprisingly busy with others intent to spare their dogs from the rising heat. I’d set out early one morning to climb stairs and hills in preparation for September’s long walk (sports bra left at home, water bladder instead of bottles in my pack). Cyclists early for the workouts or commutes. Our lives touching each other with a nod, a smile, a mumbled “morning,” and then each of us on our respective ways into days that held possibility and for some, or many, grief.

A world on fire. With suffering and love.

Beauty in passing.

Morning, friends. Much love and kindest regards.