mornings … cannot see
too many sunrises – dawn …
creeps in stealthily
I had myself called with the four o’clock watch, mornings, for one cannot see too many summer sunrises on the Mississippi.
They are enchanting.
First, there is the eloquence of silence; for a deep hush broods everywhere.
Next, there is the haunting sense of loneliness, isolation, remoteness from the worry and bustle of the world.
The dawn creeps in stealthily; the solid walls of black forest soften to gray, and vast stretches of the river open up and reveal themselves; the water is glass-smooth, gives off spectral little wreaths of white mist, there is not the faintest breath of wind, nor stir of leaf; the tranquility is profound and infinitely satisfying.
Then a bird pipes up, another follows, and soon the pipings develop into a jubilant riot of music.
You see none of the birds; you simply move through an atmosphere of song which seems to sing itself.
When the light has become a little stronger, you have one of the fairest and softest pictures imaginable.
From Life on the Mississippi by Mark Twain (James R. Osgood and Company, Boston, 1883).
Driving over the Cross Island Parkway bridge this morning I looked to the east and got a glimpse of the sunrise over the Atlantic Ocean.
I says to myself, get you phone out and take a picture.
Then I says to myself, oh not again, how many of these sunrise pictures do you need?
I remembered Mr. Twain writing one cannot see too many summer sunrises and I grabbed up my phone, lowered my window and snapped away.
Looking at the picture, I have to agree with Mr. Twain.
The eloquence of silence.
Even while listening to a book on tape.
The haunting sense of loneliness, isolation, remoteness from the worry and bustle of the world if even for just that moment as I drive, surrounded by other drivers.
Feeling more than seeing that the dawn creeps in stealthily.
If nothing else, I feel the fresh start of the day.
And I am reminded that to not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
So what to do with all the worries that I carry into the start of the day?
Seeing the sunrise how cannot I not be reminded, once again, to seek first his kingdom.
And embrace the haunting sense of loneliness, isolation, remoteness from the worry and bustle of the world.
If just for a moment.
No Haiku For You 