Daybreak

Who owns the night? For us as visual creatures it's a time of restoration, imagination, procreation. We can't see our usual worldly business in the dark. Dreams, mysteries, and rest prevail in an unguarded sphere. We want to feel safe and, perhaps, exhilarated.

Let daring thoughts come.

The neighbor's cock crows at the faintest hint of dawn. A cardinal in the canopy announces matins. Crepuscular life begins navigating with outsized eyes and ears on the path into Halibut Point.

Gulls gathered for a freshwater bath on the quarry pond kibitz about the prospects of the day.

The first sunlight coming over the palisades warms white plumage with fiery dawn colors.

 

It's too early for precision in the mind, but a grand time for mental profusion.

It's a time to let questions linger at the border of knowing.

Shadows and silhouettes inform the journey of the heart.

The quiet hour affirms rituals acknowledging the miracle of love.

Certainly there will be novelties to discover and delight and distinguish this day.

The light that energizes all life  reveals iota by iota an infinite pageant.

The light is itself a terrain, a promise, a place to be.