Dawn

Dawn arrives on Sunday morning. I stand,
freezing, on the tenth floor, eyes focused on the rosy horizon.
Fog swirls along the landscape,
and a last sliver of moon draws my eye
upwards. Far below, the lights switch off by the pool,
while two birds hop around its edge.
Brighter now, a slight purple
smears the trees on top of the mountains.
The wind blows
as if because of its strength
the sun is pulled up,
and the night is pushed back.


Louder and louder the birds sing,
heralding the coming of a new morning.
As the sun prepares to spring from behind the mountains,
the wind and brightness grow,
and a curious glow, not quite sunlight,
spreads over everything.
Peeking through a dip, the sun makes its first appearance
with a yellow explosion that stretches across the summit


The sun rises.
So bright -
I can barely see the edge of the star.
So beautiful, so pure, so brilliant,
Shining with internal radiance,
casting shadows and burning fog.
Moments later, free of the mountains,
the sun continues its unending journey


Morning has broken.
I am blinded,
But it was vision well spent