As I try to stay awake through the last hour
I glance at the window behind
Rip open the curtains
Who knew sunrise was so soon?
Glancing behind
The whole sky changes hue
With each look.
Pale pink to pale gray
To stormy blue
Until bright blue appears
With streaks of brilliant white.
Who else looks upon this?
Is anyone enjoying it?
Or do they sleep the Sunday mornings away?
Are those awake to see it too weary to appreciate it
Off to the daily grind?
I wonder,
How much beauty do I miss
When I do not stir myself to be perceptive of it?
Oh, I understand this! It’s only when we’re pushing ourselves outside of our normals hours and routines that we suddenly realise that there are other beautiful hours to experience. Your poetic voice is clear and it moves softly from observation of the colours of the morning to wondering if anyone else is experiencing the same beauty. There’s a strong sense of this being a solitary figure, but the isolation is not negative: there’s a sense of growing awareness. Lovely!