Morning

This morning was cool and grey. A lilting fog hung in the air. Women and children filed along the roadside, bundles on their heads, loads heavy on their backs. Men pushed bicycles with loads of charcoal and wood. Moto drivers bundled up in winter coats.

The UCBC campus was quiet when I arrived.  John and Kapitula were the only people to greet me when I came through the gate. Kapitula, with his glowing smile, sang to the radio while he filled a bucket with water from the spigot.

The doors to the Academic Building were open. The tile floors, freshly washed, reflected the light. Jacques, one of the workers, hummed gently as he wiped the floor. At the end of the other hallway, Musiande sang another song. Someone outside whistled an arpeggio.

"God's mercies are new every morning."