The morning dew hung with a brisk moving stillness.
Wind whipped around my head.
Trying to think of warmer days, summer days, or at least a warmer coat.
Stepping onto the warmer comfort of the bus, I made my way to the back seat.
So thankful for a warm seat, and a window with a view.
The clear rippled skies reflect on the liquid asphalt puddles.
Gazing into the sky, I think to myself, today is a good day.
The goldenrod nodded a greeting in the warm afternoon light.
Bursting with hue, in ways only a weeded flower could.
Today is going to be a good day, I know it to be true.
No matter what may come, the light will shine.
Rising above the nonsense.
Seeking my purpose.