It’s a blue moon rising as the sun spills over the horizon of Gods holy workmanship and bathes the smallest forms and my face with light. Gods soft caress upon my cheek, his love song moving across his created beings. All sounds and senses alert and alive, opening our eyes in wonder, in observance of all we take for granted. These days and these gifts come wrapped in ordinary ways, suddenly becoming extraordinary. In the context of a human life upon a wearied planet, our days are as fleeting as the morning dew upon a gardens leaves. They tally inside our marrow and brush against one another in surrender and in hope, until we leave, a form of life, the imprint of our days- the dash between the numbers on the stone marker where the body lays. How will our life be lived?