The 24 Hour Psalm

The sun just stood above the horizon.  Somewhere else it just slipped below it.  Day is coming here and night is approaching there.  Possibilities abound or accomplishments are put to rest.  All is polished gold or refined ebony.  The mocking bird brightly sings or the mourning dove softly hums.  Trees stretch themselves awake in the morning breeze or forests fold themselves down to slumber. Cold is being pushed back by the sun and a jacket or is being caught by furnace and flannel.  “I love you” is whispered with a kiss or “I love you” is drowsily murmured. The day begins; the night, the long period, blessed be the twenty-four hour psalm.  

All is quiet or all is still.

Albert Bierstadt, Among the Sierra Nevada Mountains