#31. December Morning

Six a.m. and the morning sky is still black.

In the east, she sees the first signs of daylight,

a whispery blur gradually swelling on the horizon.

Weary shards of night pass swiftly into nothingness,

fiery orange bands illuminate the darkness,

magenta to coral to rose, then mauve and lilac.
The blush transitions in layers, each fleeting,
to be rapidly replaced by other swathes of color.

She looks down, blinks, looks up; it morphs again.

The sky flames, glows wondrously bright.
Impatient to begin, night becomes day.