It was pitch black when our alarm went off, singing sweetly to our uninterested ears.
We drove through the inky black until we met Mr. Sun somewhere along the 403 and liked him so much we chased him all day.
Through the skies of Toronto, Denver, San Fransisco and straight to Kona we watched him dance and sway. He played shy between the clouds but followed him anyway.
I used to never take photos of nature, sunsets or clouds. Now I can't help it. It's just so beautiful and I suppose I am growing soft.
And since it's been at least two weeks since I shared a poem from my repertoire, a little ditty if you will by Emily Dickenson: (Wait, is it couth to call something by Dickinson a "little" ditty?!)
Sunrise and Sunset
I'll tell you how the sun rose, A ribbon at a time. The steeples swam in amethyst, The news like squirrels ran. The hills untied their bonnets, The bobolinks begun. Then I said softly to myself, "That must have been the sun!"
........................ But how he set, I know not. There seemed a purple stile Which little yellow boys and girls Were climbing all the while
Till when they reached the other side, A dominie in gray Put gently up the evening bars, And led the flock away.