Morning twilight.Β Β Monochrome. I see the old Moon, waning, a crescent of white silk. Venus and Spica share a moment nearby As the Sun edges the horizon.
In my bag, I feel the breeze gently stir past the open zipper at my shoulder. Sunrise creeps in. Clouds mottled and streaked. Red. Orange. A pillar. Iron incandescence. Vibrant.
Earth awakens with whispers. Trees reach and touch with each finger of wind plucking the branches. Songbirds start.Β Β Dogs caution. First beams break the horizon.
Sixteen geese wing past with down swaddled in the early light. I rise to give my wife words to see this beauty.