The street is silent as Spring sneaks ever so quietly in, half of the world still sleeping. Pillowy gray clouds hang like winter’s afghan of comfort, ready to be peeled off slowly, in measured stages. A barred owl hoots in the distance and a pearlescent dragonfly flits just ahead of me. Two Wood Ducks glide atop the glassy pond. A lone turtle peeks out for the quickest moment from beneath the water’s surface. Three carmine male cardinals zip from one oak to another singing their daybreak songs. I draw it all into my hungry lungs, hugging it tightly within my rib cage. I exhale slowly, scanning the horizon and considering my wealth, not of the monetary kind, but the kind worth writing about when the day is done. In worlds near and far, behind closed doors and even in places reserved for peace, there exists chaos and grief, disease and death, hopelessness and hunger, loneliness and despair. War and all its demons are next door neighbors to some and even worse, squatters in the minds of others. Every imaginable ugly face of humanity is out there, along with some unimaginable too. But this day, right here and now, I am safe, belly and heart filled, my health and mind intact, clothed and with sturdy walls protecting me, love surrounding me. This morning I am simply awash in gratefulness for the bounty of beauty, goodness and grace bestowed upon me and before me. I stop to do Sun Salutations and practice Hatha breathing. As if in response the sun peeks out and then just as quickly is hidden away. Today I may have to be my own light, and that’s okay.