Morning Sky 22 October 2010

A photograph never captures
the sky in the morning
as Earth rolls over
and reveals Sun.
For one thing,
I am rarely up watching
the process unfold,
at first light,
which arrives imperceptibly
even when I am sitting in the dark
watching.
On the most colorful mornings,
the light and color change
seemingly
in five second intervals.
The color grows strong
and then as we get close to seeing
the sun
it fades
in the brilliant
uncontrollable
expanse of golden light.
There is no way for me
to capture that in a photograph.
Only one second
is captured in the lens.
As beautiful as it may be,
there is nothing,
no image,
no word
that can express
the growing expanse of brilliance and beauty
that awakens
in the watcher.

Morning Sky 25 October 2010

 


Light is incredibly generous, but also gentle. When you attend to the way the dawn comes, you learn how light can coax the dark. The first fingers of light appear on the horizon, and ever so deftly and gradually, they pull the mantle of darkness away from the world. Quietly before you is the mystery of a new dawn, the new day…It is one of the tragedies of modern culture that we have lost touch with these primal thresholds of nature. The urbanization of modern life has succeeded in exiling us from this fecund kinship with our mother earth. Fashioned from the earth, we are souls in clay form. We need to remain in rhythm with our inner clay voice and longing. Yet this voice is no longer audible in the modern world. We are not even aware of our loss, consequently, the pain of our spiritual exile is more intense in being largely uninteligible.

— John O’Donohue, Anam Cara, A Book of Celtic Wisdom

cattle grazing

Morning quiet.

Herd on the hazy hillside,
chomping,
but I can’t hear a sound.
How do they keep their heads to the grass
and still move as one through the prairie?

Fog rising.
Still pond begins to ripple.

First birdsong,
softly.

This sky is quiet as well:
pastel blues and pinks.

Red, feathery Johnson grass barely moves.

I stand still in the stillness,
watching the Eastern sky.
I have to really look
and think.
About the fact that it’s Earth’s movement I witness –
not the sun’s –
when suddenly I see the first sliver of golden ball
on the horizon.

This morning ritual,
and evening’s,
keeps perspective.

sun - morning