Watching the sky at dawn.
Before the sun actually crests the horizon
The dark black of the night becoming the dark blue of the morning
Heralding the new day, like a trumpeter the king, a bird sings out
Wake up and see what I see
Minute by minute the blues are shifting
I am sitting, watching
My naked sad weak human eye cannot see the imperceptible changes that are taking place in front of me
Staring intently
Measuring the hue
Comparing the tone
But I cannot see the changes
And yet I know
The sky is getting lighter
The darkest of blues are becoming so bright
The brightest of blues become white
For a long while we stay in this place of white
The whites begin to take on gold that screams the sun, the sun, he comes, he comes.
This cloud becomes a hot pink banner in the sky
That gold sharpens to bright orange…
I am sitting, watching
All that I see formed from all that I cannot see
We do not see growth
Growth is a change that is not spontaneous
And yet the impact of it is profound
The tree grows silently
The sky changes slowly
All the while screaming glory majesty
Tag Archives: Place
Place
The faux leather recliner in which I sit.
Butterfly blanket on my lap.
Patch of bright light. On my mattress. On the floor.
Sun shining through the open window in which sits the box fan.
White noise and air circulation.
Sip on the last of the coffee from the press.
Place it on the dusty tv stand. Tv reflects the bunk beds.
Box spring leaning against the wall.
Bike leaning against the box spring.
Beach chair leaning against the bike.
Backpack on the floor. Camelbak on the floor. Mattress on the floor.
Laptop. Clean clothes piled on top.
Paige asleep on the top bunk. Bundled in blankets. Big silver bag. New straw hat perched on the corner.
Closet doors joined in the middle. Open. My clothes on the right. Her clothes on the left. Her borrowed mountain bike leaning against the closet doors.
This is our room.
This is my place.
Writing from Life, for Life. 
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