I woke up to silence this morning.

Internal silence. The quietness of mind and body that is all too rare for these older bones. Mental fog? None. Achy muscles, gone.

A mental list of things I could do formed and swirled like a throng of blackbirds wheeling effortlessly, cohesively

Tasks, ideas, plans, they wove an intricate pattern of instinctive order out of daily chaos and intransigence

What was formerly a tumbling rock slide insurmountable opened up to a path to the other side, the true resting place

I will enjoy this clarity and energy for the short time it is here, without the spectre of chronic pain that hovers, lurks and waits to once again strike

Oh, the blessed quiet

Photo by Kevin Bidwell on Pexels.com

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