There is one moment, in the frosted hour before dawn, with the full moon melting, moving low, in the west behind the tall line of pines, with the fog façade on the Monocacy valley trees, before the crow caws the morning message, before obsculta in the deep silence is overwhelmed by the transient noise of aeroplanes and motorcars.
There, in that full circle surrounding, I can turn in any direction, take a moment, take a breath, and begin this day. That moment, when the fullness of nature nods knowingly, and wakes the world. That is my moment.
~Michael Douglas Jones