Morning

It's seven twelve on grand avenue in paonia. The sky is gray turning blue, there are eight cars on the two blocks that make up our main street, mine being one of them. A couple walk by, wrapped in coats and a hat or two, I wave at them, a friendly good morning said, echoing softly across the street. They walk on, up the driveway at the end of the street, it's now I notice they are holding hands.
    Little links between the two of them, connecting them from being adrift, alone in this morning. Her jacket is white and his is black, the colors playing like yin and yang in my mind.
It's the little moments, the tiny ones you don't think anyone notices or cares about that make this life good. It's holding hands with someone in the chill of an October morning in Colorado. It's today.