Colors

It was cloudy this morning, gray and silent.

The osprey took off with a screech as soon as I got out of the car.

He knows me now.

There were no other birds about but for one lonely mourning dove.  There always seems to be at least one.

The few flowers I saw looked sad and forlorn, still sleeping before the sun.

And I knew that I would have to be creative to find the beauty of the day.

I saw a glimmer along the shoreline and found these shells, discarded garbage left by the retreating water.

But the colors inside each one were beautiful.

This morning I told someone that we live our lives between miracles.

The key is surviving that time in between.

But there are miracles.

Because there is God.

And the most beautiful things can be found in the places we least expect them, abandoned, forgotten, left as garbage, hidden underfoot.