Facing East

No heralding trumpets
Just softening shadows
Timed and tracked
Anticipated
Fingers of light
Flaring orange
Over the eastern ridge of foothills
Caress the slopes of snow capped peaks
Bidding night farewell.


Horizon’s gentle glowing palette
Of pink and coral
Climbing higher, wider, deeper
Painting clouds beyond reach.
Every earthly thing bathed in gold
For a moment, glimpsed and grasped
Devoid of fanfare yet still miraculous
Too soon ordinary again
Although born anew.

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