The predawn sky is relatively clear. Rippled with clouds that glow in the moonlight and allow stars to peek through openings, it’s the most light I’ve seen up there for days. We’ve been under a blanket of oppressive fog and cloud.
A week ago it was cold and white. Then we were graced with a warming trend that melted every bit of the early snow in the yard but brought fog. Now it’s fall-like again, and this morning it’s balmy.
I’m outside with the pup. Soon I’ll be wishing I didn’t have to come outside long before light in the ice-cold of the night, but just now it’s a gift. The light in the sky catches my attention as I walk to the edge of the patio and look up.
I can’t help but worship.
Reminded again that the light has always been there even when hidden by cloud, and while perception tries to define my reality there’s still the mystery of that which I can’t see that is no less real.
Murphy makes a sound, too small to call a bark it’s more a trill, and let’s me know me he’s ready to go back inside. I take one more deep drink of the night sky, tuck it away in my mind for later when I’ll need it, and turn toward him.
Day begins, slow and gentle, held in holy presence.