November 20, 2015
The Earth spins, and we turn from the stars and the deep dark of space into the grey light of dawn. I watch it come, slowly, melting the dark. There is pink now, streaks of watercolor across the dove grey sky. The songbirds are waking up. And then the sun scrapes the edge of the world and ignites the whole sky–a raging flame of orange and rose, shot through with bits of blue and violet. A flock of geese wing their way above the city, dark silhouettes against the flames. Like a match struck in a darkened room, the light flares, and then settles to its task. The flames fade as the Sun leaps over the horizon. The dove grey of dawn slowly becomes a thin, watery blue, darkening and deepening as the Sun climbs into the trees, and then sails over the rooftops of the neighborhood.
It is the fifth day of rain. Piles of storm clouds have sealed off my corner of the world. I sit at my window with my cup of tea, watching the world turn into another twilit day. But I remember; I remember when the sun scraped the edge of the world and the sky burst into flame.
Beautiful prose, my dear, beautiful friend. We breathe that sunrise with you when these words hit the heart. Love you deeply. M
Thank you, Mer. Love you too!
Mary, your words come to life! I can see such vivid colors when you describe nature. What a gift you have.
🙂 Elizabeth Gilbert has taught me to consider it a “sacred trust”… we are given our gifts that we might share them with the world… I’m glad this made you smile…
This is my favorite time of day. Thanks for sharing. Mom