Listening into the Quiet By: G. Braxton-Thomas
She really does try to listen to what people are actual saying, and pay attention to the words they choose. However, more often she only hears their tone and the emotion in the voices. And often it is enough. So she is probably not considered a very good listener, least ways not of people. She supposes that’s because she is contrarily an intent listener of the morning. Yes, that is what she said, the morning. She listens to those quiet sounds that come with an awakening day. Sounds of a sun rising out of an eastern sky, and sounds of the dew that softly covers the leaves of the ficus tree and those potted plants set out on her back deck. What a comforting miraculous conversation is had as the dew greets every blade of grass, every flower petal and earthly surface as far as she can see. The dew has a voice that harmonizes with the flutter of a humming bird as it hovers over a pink full flowering hibiscus. And there are the sounds of morning light’s intrusion as it overtakes the darkness that was night. The sun has a declaratory trumpeting sound, duty-filled to ever intently transform the southern sky from velvets of black to shades of purple then orange and yellow signaling daybreak. Well maybe you can’t hear those sounds, but she does, she always has. Even smells have voice and speak softly to her spirit, they tell her that big old magnolia around the bend is in blossom, and that the neighbor has spread the fertilizer. Some smells are subtle, but their voices are ever clear and she does not miss the messages. Those morning sounds are all in harmony and make profound cohesive statements of continuity, of birth, of death, of promise and compromise. Those statements direct her days and give deepest meaning to her life.
A listener of the morning has an innate ability to be patient and still, an ability to connect. She hears and acknowledges the morning, and more the morning hears and acknowledges her.