An Idle Saturday Morning.

I am laying in bed listening to the sounds of the wailing wind through a half cracked bedroom window. The swirl of rotting leaves, a cacophony of sound merrily at a play in the frosty yard below. I have no where to go on this cold November morning. No plans to keep, or commitments to make…yet I am restless. I once heard that idle hands are the devil’s play ground, but on this morning encompassed by a gale of fury with winter knocking, I am all but content in remaining absolutely still.