Deep peace of the quiet earth to you. 

How can we sleep?

December 9, 2016


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. 











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This Quiet Earth