Writing Diary

I guess this will double as my writing diary.

It’s the dead of the night and quiet reigns in the house except for the tapping of my fingers on the keyboard.  Close your eyes and listen.  The warm light from the lamp next to the table is all that softly brightens the room.  Be present in the moment, even if only for a few seconds.  The crisp cool air outside signals the end of yet another summer and the beginning of fall.  It is a windless night, the crickets are singing their song and being heard by anyone still awake.  Experience this moment, the perfect moment in time.  Back and front porch lights shine against the neighbor’s houses and street lights illuminate the cement; no one is out there.  It’s beautifully peaceful.  Not even a footstep is heard outside tonight.  How perfect can this very moment be?  As perfect as our Maker intended it to be, but how often do we enjoy these perfect moments in time? Not often enough.  Not by far.

Close your eyes and listen.  What do you hear?  Feel the air on your skin.  What do you feel?  Take a deep breath, what do you smell? Open your eyes and what do you see?  I see the stillness of the night, the softly lit kitchen, the darkness outside and in the rest of the house.  I feel the peace that blossoms late in the night.  I feel the slight cold breeze of the outside air.  I see the emptiness of the streets and yards all around me.  I hear the tapping of the keys on the keyboard and the crickets singing their songs.  To be in this perfect moment is peace.


A breeze snuck inside the back screen door and wrapped its arms around me, gently pulling me out to the back porch and then it faded away into the evening sky. I sat upon the cement steps of my haven while the most beautiful, perfect moment happened upon me. To my right, peeking out over the neighbor’s garage roof top sprawled a heavenly sight. The sun, on its downward trip, falling to signal the end of the day, donned the most magnificent dreamcicle orange I have ever laid eyes upon. A streak of puffy clouds that resembled a scrumptious pink sherbet enveloped the dreamcicle orange sun. This Artist’s rendition of colors was contrasted by skinny brown limbs of newly budding trees with arms outreached in various directions. These arms lightly touched by the artistic disparity of small green buds of life on the almost barren dark brown limbs. Bright green blades of grass covered the ground like a soft, snug shag carpet, and a chilly breeze floated through the air. Bright red birds, brown birds with red bellies, a wood pecker, and other birds wearing a variety of colors from The Artist’s pallet filled the air with their musical voices. As another soft breeze soared through the sky, the faint smell of freshly cut grass completed God’s three dimensional work of art. For that moment, peace filled my heart. Every sense in my being was saturated by the beauty and wonder of that moment in time. Whether experienced alone or shared with another, life is all about those perfect moments in time, those gifts which can only be given by the Greatest Artist of all.

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