I have always been nocturnal, so while I love sunrises, I prefer to see them at the end of the night, not the beginning of the day. Sometimes, as I drive home from work, I get treated to the awakening of the rest of the world. The fog in the hollows begins to pull back ever so slowly, as if it is trying not to be noticed by the sun as it peeks over the horizon. Windows brighten as households rise to start their routines. And, occasionally, the moon watches over it all. The process enthralls me every single time.
A while back, I watched Venus and a crescent moon sit just between the darkness and the sunrise. I was missing my girl that morning, and from that sorrow came this poem.
A Slip of a Sliver of Silver
Cradling the gentle darkness on a pink horizon.
Ever the Guardian.
Overwhelming brightness swallows her —
She must overwatch
From the heavens.
This story and all related material are the original works of Estora Adams. All rights reserved.