This morning, coffee in hand, I stepped out of my front door to check out the skies, as storms are expected later today. My arms felt the weight of moisture and I inhaled the mustiness of freshly turned earth. As I stood on the stoop, looking at the clouds to the northwest, a hummingbird swooped down in front of me, an arm’s length away, and hovered, examining me as closely as I examined her. For about two seconds, we stared at each other. Then, a swoop, left, right, and off flashed the green and grey bird. I lifted my cup for a sip of steaming coffee, reflecting on what just occurred. Then I glanced down to see embroidered red splashes on my chest. Irony abounds! Events like these are so rare that they must be burned brightly into memory. 

A reminder that the intent of my Tumblemind Sunrise Journal is to express a cogent idea within one paragraph that involves all senses.