New Every Morning

“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.”

― Marcel Proust

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the way is familiar

and old friend

with whom I am well acquainted

I have traveled this way before

step by step

seen these same trees

marveled at these same mountains

dodged the same pick-ups

listened

as the same sprinklers

sprayed their wild cadence in the

the same field

and yet this morning

as with every morning

there is joyful newness

everywhere

everywhere

how could I

have missed that wildflower before

or failed to see that nest

perched high in the limb of

that stark snag?

and the sky

golden pink grey blue wildness

changes

and then changes again

that wind

that smell

that bird

that fawn

all these are new yet not new

how dare I be bored

with this walk

that person

this job

that mountain

when I am gifted each day

with new eyes