“Every tree and plant in the meadow seemed to be dancing, those which average eyes would see as fixed and still.”

– Rumi

Today was a rare morning.  I slept until the alarm rang, which is rare, indeed.  As I stretched out my arm toward the snooze button, I realized it was Monday morning.  The weekend had been a busy one, and I knew that there were many loose ends that needed to be collected for the family to begin the day.  What I needed was time to organize my thoughts, not ten more minutes of sleep; so reluctantly, I left my pillow behind and pulled on my sneakers.  I figured my walk could wait until later.  Right now, I needed to be all business and be sure that Monday morning wasn’t buried somewhere in the remnants of the weekend.

I rubbed my sleepy eyes and used auto-pilot to find the back door and unlock it for the arrival of Ivy’s bus buddy, who uses the path through our house as a short cut each morning.  I looked out beyond the yard to the just brightening morning sky.  It was painted in stripes of blue and white, and the unusual patterns and colors made my eyes pop open.

My plans suddenly changed, and I found myself pulling on my sweatshirt and wading through the ocean of dew that weighed down the grass in my path.  Every bird in every tree was singing at the top of his voice.  There was not even the hint of a breeze, and it was too early for traffic; so the backdrop of silence seemed to magnify and clarify each sound.  Was it the blue and white sky canvas, or was it my own blank slate still hovering between sleeping and waking that lent the same contrast to my sight?

I watched as my feet landed and sent the dew flying from my footprints, leaving a visible trail behind me.  Two crow sentinels greeted me as I entered the park.  Rather than following and watching me today, they seemed to be a step ahead, landing in first one treetop and then the next; and I felt compelled to follow.  The sun was beginning to crest the horizon, and it painted the blue and white canvas with a golden glow.

It was then that it happened — just the way Rumi described it — every tree and plant seemed to be dancing!  The light moved on its own through the topmost leaves of the tallest trees; and although there was no wind to move them, I could see them dancing in the joy of morning.  Each of the million drops of dew began to shimmer and the grass seemed to move as well, delighting in its new-found ability to sparkle; but not a drop of dew fell, because the motion was not of the physical world.  Flowers tried on color after color as the light appeared and brightened and took its rightful place in the morning sky.  And I thought of the way that my average, sleepy eyes had been opened to the wonder of another new day.  It sure beats an extra ten minutes of sleep!