A spectacular sunrise broke open the morning at first light. A sunrise that seemed it would have been more comfortable calling in a new day across a desert landscape, as it came accompanied by a slight dry breeze from the east. It's times like this when I wish our house had a large picture window and a view to match it, so that I could sit comfortably at the table with my coffee, maybe a slice or two of bacon could be at hand, Manna happily curled at my feet, and sit back and enjoy the spectacle of nature laid out before me. Our house does not however, have such a luxury, so to see this serene event I had to walk out our front door and stand bearfoot on the lawn in my bathrobe, and watch the crimson light chase across the cirrocumulus clouds silhouetting the palm trees, telephone poles and overhead wires.
I had Manna on a leash, hoping she might enjoy this wonderful revelry of light and gift of nature that is thrown at us with such abundance. She didn't seem impressed. She was more interested in the old mustachioed fellow who walks briskly by around this time every morning with a backpack strapped on and defiant look of determination on his face. I used to think he might be in training to embark on some great personal quest, such as scaling Mount Mckinley. But I have seen him walking by for years the same way, with the same backpack, his eyes focused steely ahead. I think the quest he is on is one that involves a more inward and intimate goal. I do wonder what he carries in that pack though.
This reminds me that we all sometimes wish for the opportunity to obtain grander scales of experience. That large picture window would certainly afford a grand view to enjoy. That trip to Europe we've had simmering in the back of our minds would be nice. For now, I will take the more intimate view of things and store them up. That sunrise will forever be coupled with the feeling of cold wet grass under my feet, and Manna's curious eyes intently watching that old fellow walking by. And there is something that lingers with a feeling of solemn stark repose in the black skeletal form of telephone poles against a searing red morning sky. It is all enough for now.