Existence, Poetry, Writing

Yellow Special

A lot can happen at the wee-hours of the morning. Even now, an orange glow seeps through my curtained window. The sun has risen and I’m prepared to drive to work.

Interesting? Heck no. But, it makes me think. Dawn brings something that 9 am doesn’t. It’s a new kind of beauty that most people don’t see or enjoy. This simple sight, a horizon set ablaze, and a smell of fresh air (not the garbage truck!).

I’m having a good cup of coffee (the freeze dried stuff, yummmm) and watching the day arrive. Hmm…I’m not sure what this even means, but it’s poetic isn’t it:

Sunrises are a special kind of yellow.

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