The pre-dawn sky looks something like this. Not quite, because the miracle never looks the same more than once.
I watch as it grows more spectacular with every passing second. Glory, I say in the quiet of my mind.
Gerry gets up to make coffee and pauses as he passes the east facing open door in our bedroom.
“Linda, look at that.”
He stands in holy awe and worships.
By the time he returns, coffee cups in hand, the sky is even more brilliant. He stops in his tracks and an involuntary “wow” escapes his lips.
This is prayer, sure as anything.