November Barnes

Some mornings you wake up with all the energy of the world. These mornings everything feels magical, so sharp, so in focus, you can see through the layers of mind clutter that somehow filters the eyes and their perceptions. 
This was that kind of morning. Every tree stood out as an individual telling its personal story. Stories about the animals its known, the leaves it holds, the nutrients its found.
The cat-tails on the pond sway gently remembering the song of the redwing blackbird, watching them you can almost hear the song on the breeze.