Morning found me awake and tossing in my bed, my mind sorting through the files of things to do today, unable to return to peaceful slumber. Finally, in resignation, I arose, donned my robe and quietly shut the bedroom door, allowing my spouse to continue his sleep.
When one is attempting to be "quiet as a mouse" it becomes an imposing task, every small action resonates in the darkness of morning. Just making a cup of tea in silence is a challenge, can't use the microwave as every button pressed beeps out its electronic cadence, even opening and shutting the units door seems to make a deafening sound. A pot of water would have to do and on stove top it would take much longer to reach a boil, but the morning hadn't yet been born so I felt that time could be spared. As I waited I watched as the dark night sky slowly lightened, tinged with the promise of morning. Old Sol crept and crawled his way towards the horizon, bringing with him ever more light and tentatively the dawn is born.
Sunrises are seldom as spectacular as sunsets, it's almost as though the sun itself is just awakening, groggy from its bed. For only a moment the Eastern sky glowed faintly, gold with a blush of rose, and then the golden orb crested above the edge of Mother Earth. And the day began.
Yes, definitely, sunsets evoke more recognition, more wonder and awe as they paint the sky with fluorescent color. Perhaps life should be much the same; to be entered into with a tiny cry and exited with breathtaking flamboyance like the setting sun.
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