I'm an early riser by nature. We're talking so early that I have a nodding acquaintance with the nightowls; one finishes her shift as the other begins. My favorite time of day is the pre-dawn--the gray light that so bravely reaches into this dark corner before pulling the sun behind it.
I mean, really. Who wants to stick their hand in a dark hole every morning, not knowing what's inside? It's amazing. And it happens every day. And if I time it right, I get to the clearing in my section of woods fifteen minutes or so before the actual, on-the-clock sunrise. That's what stops you in your tracks--that pre-dawn.
If it's clear, the colors--well, no writer can do that justice. (Maybe painters can, un-hampered as they are by the clumsiness of description).
If it's overcast, there's less drama, but so much depth in subtlety.
I have unpronounceable names for each kind of sunrise, names I always forget.
I've never met the same one twice.