Sadness in the beauty of the day.
My cold fingers ache in half finger cycling gloves, yet early morning sun shines bright enough to need shades. 
I feel sad in the beauty of it.
Sad for those I miss who no longer are here.
Sad for those who no longer are as they once were. 
The stillness of the air, and ripples of the river brings it out, from within.
This Willamette stretch I know so well. 
Yet.
Suddenly five crows caw.  
Dart with each other in a circular chase.  
Louder, louder, louder, as if to still my brain.
Quiet my own circular musings.
I am not human-centric enough to believe I know why they do what they do.
Or what they do, when they do it. 
Yet, it stills me and slows my pedaling feet.
As if to say:
Stop. 
Leave it. 
The day is beautiful. 
Rejoice.
It is all that we have.
Rejoice. 
Beauty in the sadness.
Sadness in the beauty of the day.