I watched the sunrise this morning. The dark sky was a curtain, unveiling the beginning of a play. I drove with the same impatience, never stopping but still intent on noticing every change in color and temperature.

I saw birds in various shapes and sizes, silhouettes against a pale blue sky.  Behind a frozen window all sounds of the morning serenade are hushed and muted.

The spectacle was warmer than usual, gold and amber replaced the typical cool blues, pinks and mauve. Silhouettes of trees turned from black to sepia as ambient light lit the gnarled winter branches.

Clouds marched in like the impatient audience and reflected in the remnants of the lake. My thoughts were active, scattered like birds, ferocious and manic as the now flaming sky.

I realized the absence of myself-how often I drive by with such intent to get there I ignore the sunrise. I should’ve stopped and taken in more details, maybe painted en plein air, but there is always places to go and the day never allows for stragglers watching the sunrise.

That late morning sky-pale and white, all spectacle is subtle and burned out like overexposed photograph, details lost to the bright white light. So what will today’s show be-I’ve watched the intro and now my impatience for possibilities pushes me to create, to make this day a show to remember until the curtain closes once again

With sunset-maybe I’ll stop this evening and watch every detail and even the credits

As the film ends…