it's so nice in the mornings.

before people come and shatter its pristinity.

amanecer is just a hesitant, delicate glass ball,
steadily but subtly beginning its roll down a slope.

funny -
the ball becomes heavier more solid & sometimes grating as the day progresses,
until it cools and melts into the inky pool of night,
from which this precious, transparent orb will rise again and again
and again.

it's
personal, the dawn.
daybreak is everyman's, but his alone.
it is reflection, rebirth, renewal, restraint.

imean,
sunset is such a slut.
everyone wants a piece of her. and nearly everyone gets it.
you watch the whole thing happen. she bares it all; there is no mystery, no surprise.

but with sunrise,
there's this exquisite breathless waiting--
she holds the moment back from you, she keeps you guessing,
she builds the tension and holds it in such pregnant poise until
without your even realizing it, she has come.
in glorious, eager, radiant, loving splendor,
to cradle creation in her arms and soak life into the living.

i'm in love with the sunrise.
she is proud, regal, and reserved;
she is warm, gentle, and comforting;
she is cheerful, bright, and optimistic;

just to see her makes me happy.
just the thought of her brings a smile.
just to know her fills my eyes with wonder,
love,
and beauty.
with humbling awe at her tender serendipity -
her faithful unwavering devotion:

every day, she saves the world from lull of Night;
every day, she fills my world and soul with light;
she is reason enough for my eyes to be given sight.

[thank You, God, for Your everyday miracle.]