Good morning all, on this peaceful Sunday morning. Hubby is snoozing, in bed, beside me. A few birds keep singing, intermittently. Nature is waking up slowly. We are promised rain today, and there is a greyness in this dawn.

Two of my dogs are out, the other two raised neither an ear nor an eyelid. They are still in dreamland on their cozy blanket. Along with two of the cats, Gizmo and Precious, our ginger fur balls, but Snuggles is on the window sill in the bathroom, and Bandit is out on the front porch, which is her favourite place. 

The coolness is being enjoyed by all, I have the doors and windows open so that the fresh air can just waft on through.

Planning a lazy day ahead with hubby. We were supposed to meet with one of my ladies, down in Hickory Tavern, for an #AVONdelivery, but she has gone down with a virus, so it's postponed now until next weekend. She works as a nurse's aide with the elderly, so being ill is not a luxury that she can afford, so praying for her to get well as quickly as possible.

I used to work as a nurse's aide many years ago, when I was younger. Sadly, although I joke about it, I am coming to the point where I am going to be needing one of my own, soon. I wrote a poem, once, also, from the point of view of a caregiver :

This poem "wrote itself" one night as I sat at my computer and I realised later it was about an older woman, maybe suffering from Alzheimer's or paralysed by a stroke, from the view of a caregiver.

When I look into your eyes I see the pain from deep within, the confusion and inner turmoil of an active mind in a body which frustrates it.  I catch glimpses of an earlier twinkle, when life was good and your manner gay; now, in the twilight of your life, the copper hair is silvered and a mist falls over your eyes.  Where is the young girl who ran on the clifftops, paddled in oceans, picked shells on the shore? Where is the maiden who courted the young man, resplendent in uniform, bound for the war? He who returned to her, shell-shocked and wizened, who took her to wife, and whose children she bore? And where is she, that mother, who gave birth to two children, but whose love had no boundaries, and who craved even more?  She is here, in your mind, in the pictures that play there, the memories of all that you've seen and you've done, and I see her sometimes, in the looks that you give me, with your mind ever active, and the body you shun.  I feel for your sadness, your independence long taken, and wish I could grant you, strong limbs, straight and true . But all I can offer, is respect and assistance in this twilight existence, I'll stand beside you.

I always think it's one of my favourites, almost like 2-poems-in-1 because of the change in cadence.

Well, the rain has started, so enjoy your day. I'm listening to it pattering on my awnings, and the fresh scent of it on the grass and int outside of my bathroom window.