The morning commute

After a night with my dearest mates, eating great food and talking nonsense, I cycled my usual route into Cambridge.

There had been a soft frost and the air was crisp and clean, a sense of promise lay in the warmth from the sun. Through the dreary houses and over the bridge....into a pastoral heaven. Birds singing their Sunday best songs heralding the enchantment of a new day.

Here, my dear blip friends, among the simplest of things my heart grows too large for my chest and often will squeeze out a tear from my bewitched eye. The peace, the sense of gentle purpose in nature, how connected every fibre in me feels to this wonderful life.

The grass shone, the breeze gently whispered stories of the wild flowers and the sun held me in it's arms for a small while. As if on a commute of their own the cows, with the sun on their backs, wandered across the meadow. Should I sit here in this dream all day?

Work calls......a day for no rest, what stories will I hear today? How will it go? What magic can I muster and perform today?

The path for this bright morning started well, nature beguiled me, cast a spell so familiar, a bewitchment that I long for. Where will it lead...who knows, not I.

So here's to another day of life....may your path be clear, your feet be steady and true, may you find honesty and friendship in all that you meet and some peace at the end of your days journey.

Your blip friend ..Pete