I am not a morning person.
I am not a night person, either.
I’d happily sleep from 11:00pm to 8:00am every single day.
But I have children and ambitious dreams, so I rise early.
This morning, I was up at 4:30, long before the birds and the children. Long before the sun.
I spend those early morning hours at a computer, working, writing, editing. I pause when the sun rises, make coffee, and watch the day begin. Every morning’s sunrise is different. The purples, the oranges, the black that fades to gray then various shades of blue, they are different every morning, touching different atmospheric gases and different cloud formations each day. This morning, there is a fierce streak of pink, and the moon and Venus have lingered to greet the sun. Now, in the fall, there is a fog that hovers over the trees, which are still dark and thick with leaves that have not yet fallen. The sunrise, along with the silence and the colors, will disappear before the children wake.
I go back to work as the sun peeks over the trees.