thoughts on the bus

Leaving the house this morning, I was startled by the brightness of the sky. Pushing onto the crowded bus, standing room only, with the weary masses headed to work. The gentle rocking of the bus moving some to that place between asleep and awake, while others were lost in the music streaming into ears via the ubiquitous iPods, from some the volume spilling out to wash over the adjacent passengers thumpa thumpa boom boom. Hurtling down the express lanes of I-5 the bus crosses the ship canal. The clarity of the morning is so sharp it nearly hurts. The water in Lake Union glassy and clear. To the east a lone rower ripples the calm, still waters, inherently trusting the water is clear in their path. To the west the Olympic Mountain range, jagged, and still cloaked in it's winter garb of snow, not yet ready for spring. But, ready or not, spring is on the horizon.