"I lie awake, lonely as a solitary bird on a roof." Psalm 102:7
At 3:55 a.m., the razor scrapes the stubble from my face.
From my office chair at 4:05 a.m, I sip my tea and read Psalm 102.
"My life passes as swiftly as the evening shadows. I am withering away like grass." V. 11
"In the beginning you laid the foundations of the earth, and the heavens are the work of your hands. They will perish, but you remain; they will all wear out like a garment. Like clothing you will change them and they will be discarded. But you remain the same, and your years will never end." V. 25-27
I write in my journal. I read a chapter from this book and that. I ponder. Following my morning custom, I read the obituaries of "well-known" people in the New York Times. Deaths reported today came at ages 80, 101, 90, 68 and 81. Long lives, most of them. Good lives? I hope so.
At 6:00 a.m., two hours into my day, I fry a large egg in bacon grease and eat it on top of whole wheat toast.