Photo Re-posted from Enchanted Nature’s Facebook page

At first the light is soft
More a grayish change from a deeper night
Then the gray takes shape, as light causes
The bark to darken to the west
I am steady as the trunk
Eyes, too, are soft upon the grain

We are objects in a photographic negative

Gray seems to move into the deepest purple
Red
Almost without my noticing
It is the great prelude
The rich, earthy drumming that heightens
The senses to the light
To come

Orange like fire streaks the trunk
And lifts the eastern bows up into
Arms praising the Sun God
Who has yet to grace the
Horizon
The purple red drifts into the color
Of shadow and now even the
Nightshade is no longer night

I breathe it all into my inner sanctum
Quiet in my meditation
The thunder of the rise a crescendo
Seen only at the pulse

Such be the morning drama of it all
And it would be
Too much
If I were not already weeping