Brooklyn in the Morning

Five thirty is pretty early by all standards in all places as far as I'm concerned. Don't mind the fact that my alarm going off in my head became part of my dream where we were growing potatoes in a forest in order to improve student learning, and the alarm sound somehow indicated it was time for a harvest until I realized just what was going on, and turned off my alarm. But as the cobwebs wore off, and the clouds moved away from my brain, and I became coherent enough to push the button that would create delicious coffee for my daily mug and thermos, my brain surmised that it had snowed last night. Not much, maybe an inch or two. But as you look out over Brooklyn, everything is covered with a delicate layer of white, and the sidewalks are still full of a blanket. The cars are still wearing their shield of white. Trees have some on all of the branches. The table and chairs on the balcony look like a painting with their picturesque surreal look to them.
And as the coffee brews, and I bathe and dress, I am reminded that today is a new day to take hold of. To make good choices or bad. I pray for strength and wisdom, and for my tongue to be tied when I have negative thoughts that want to pour out like a fountain. I pray that I will hear His promptings in my head, and that I will respond to them the way I should. And as I leave our beautiful abode, I crunch crunch crunch the snow on the sidewalk. In a few hours, there will be no crunching as the city warms to life. But for now, the crunch crunch crunch reminds me that each step makes a sound in the world we live in, and for today, in Brooklyn, I'm enjoying the crunch.