Sometimes it just doesn’t come. There’s just nothing there, or not much. You watch and listen but catch no signal, see no sign. Then there it is, right in front of you. Or maybe it’s far off, like on the horizon, like this morning’s sunrise. Burning a path up and above the trees and a set of skinny steeples far out over the Capital.
Blazing orange, way too bright to stare at, for too long. The sunlight cuts horizontally through the morning, catching more red and orange than blue and purple light, to our delight. Rooflines and windows catch the soft glow, shadows shifting and changing with every second, reflecting the ephemeral show. Clouds pinned stationary to the increasingly blue sky, the orange and yellow acquiescing. Trees again show their light green Spring leaves, slipping out of the dark they’ve been in all night. The quiet hum of traffic plying the awakening neighborhood, horns and birds joining in, again. A string of black limousines cruises by, blue lights flashing, their drivers not stopping, slowly easing through stop lights and stop signs, all other traffic and pedestrians resigned to the cadence of the privileged inside. A crane silhouetted by the sun, comes alive, slowly swinging a load of drywall or roofing tile or some other heavy building material up to the top of the skeletal new building, nothing at this point but steal beams and scaffolding. The steady beep of a delivery truck backing up at the corner restaurant feels like an exclamation mark, declaring this bit of morning bliss has ended.
Thanks, Rich. I look forward to your poems each time!