I sit in my backyard this morning,
Birds sing, the morning sun shines through dark branches and golden leaves, the wheelbarrow sits ready, clipped grass grows green.
A book on my lap, hot coffee waiting on my left, very soft breeze brushing the whiskers on my cheek, A lone squirrel lopes across the top of our fence, tail telegraphing.
The morning just now is too beautiful for anything except to experience, to sink into, to be.
And so…
The Profound Bartender 