Morning

A couple nights ago, we had rain where we live. Early the next day I walked through my gardens. "Morning had broken," flowers and leaves were sparkling in the sunlight. 

Whenever I see the "sweetness of the wet garden," it reminds me of a very old song as sung in the 1970's by Cat Stevens:

"Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning, born of the one light Eden saw play. Praise with elation, praise every morning, God's recreation of the new day."

(cont'd tomorrow)