[Last night, February 26, I posted yesterday's pictures. I'm writing this entry early morning of February 27.]

When my children were young, and organizing their lives and responding to their asks and refusals took over the whole day as soon as they woke, I would wake early. Early - to write and hear the spirit of my own voice speaking truly. Being my own best listener by writing in my notebook. With good coffee, by a morning fire in cold seasons. By a breeze from an open window or door in warmer ones. On a dock by a lake if this was possible.

Yesterday, in this stimulating life with friends and family on this soothing island that I love, we had so many wonderful personalities to pay attention to. My husband and I picked up my son at the airport - welcomed him to this sublime world. At the exhausted end of my day, I sat down to scrape up a single true and beautiful secret thought, even one word, as I posted the day's pictures. Too many voices around me to hear a quiet voice within. 

I wake so early this morning. Before rising, as I reflect on these pictures I posted last night, it is the single reddish beach bloom whose voice I hear: the word that wouldn't rise out of the noise of last night slips spontaneously into consciousness:

Unopened

This hibiscus blooms wildly – facing the sea from a slim strip of sand where people are few. A voice wonders: what will I know and reveal? What have I to say that has not been said? This vacant, secluded beach is such a fine place to be a mystery, for this moment, as yet, unknown and untold.

All photos and text copyright Kelly DuMar 2017