7:32 am

The fall morning is chilly –

Neither rainy like the day before

Nor scorching like the day before that.

On the concrete steps I pause,

And savor the goosebumps on my arms

And the autumn crisp in my nostrils.

Filling my lungs again and again,

I look up from the well-trod path.

From my place on a hill,

The valley cradling my town

stretches out before me,

reaching to greet the sun rising

over the next ridge.

First wisps of purple and pink,

Then brilliant streaks of gold

Light up the sky, which is

Smeared with mares’ tails

And dotted with cotton candy.

Some fellow sun-gazers

Race across the bright clouds,

Dark silhouettes changing to

iridescent wings before my eyes.

Gold light graces the colored leaves,

And I stand, still, as the sphere

Breaks the horizon.

I squint against its radiance,

And learn where the image of a

Ray-encircled sun comes from.

I can feel the dawn stroking my hair

As my avian friends caw their greetings.

I bow, slightly, in a salutation of my own, and,

Breath in my lungs and blood in my veins,

Step through the waiting door.

---

“You’re late. May I ask why?”

---

“I’m sorry, Mr. Paul.

The sunrise was so beautiful this morning.”

---

“You were late for my class to watch a sunrise?”

---

“This one was worth it, Mr. Paul.

Sometimes equations that will never change

Have to be put off for a minute while

I live.”