Cold and mostly overcast, but the rising sun strikes my face a full hour earlier due to overnight thinning of the leaves.
sunrise
Overcast with fog that thins out for the purported sunrise. It’s warm enough that one tree cricket trills in the herb garden.
Two degrees below freezing and clear at sunrise. A falling tulip tree leaf lands with an audible tick.
A cold and windy dawn. The crescent moon drowns in a sorcery of pink.
Sun in the treetops and a small flock of migrants just below, catching some breakfast. A chipmunk’s motor slowly runs out of putts.
Sunrise has been delayed by clouds, but I hold out hope. A wren tuts impatiently. A train horn blows a flat minor chord.
Thin fog at sunrise. A pileated woodpecker lands on the side of a tall locust tree and gets bum-rushed by a squirrel.
Sitting on the ridgetop I become subject to the crows’ concern. A pileated woodpecker veers from its course. The sun comes up.
Clouds gravid with rain at sunrise. A wood thrush calls quietly. In the top of the tallest oak, a squirrel’s silhouette begins its descent.
Half an hour after sunrise, a lawnmower motor in the sky: the curved sail of an ultralight glowing in the sun, heading south.
Crystal-clear, with leaves still wet from rain: I carry a chair up into the woods, luxuriate in the shimmering green and gold.
45F/7C at sunrise. I carry a chair up into the woods, watch sunlight seep down the oaks with color commentary by a red-eyed vireo.
Clear, cold, and quiet except for the wren. A breeze through the treetops: trembling leaves anointed by the sun.
Clear and cool as an October morning. Treetop oak leaves turn orange in the sunrise. All the crows wake up.