I love winter mornings. They take their time, a slow and easy build to the day. Summer and Spring mornings are too peppy for me. They jump right into sunrise with a feisty brush of the moon. I need time, a few more minutes with night before I have to say goodbye and good morning.
Winter mornings are hit the snooze button, pour another cup of tea. They stay dark until that very last moment when the sun finally has to get to work. When she finally peeks over the horizon, she is bright, bursting. Her warmth, muted for just a beat by the parting cool crisp night. The moon gives way, but he seems to stay with her in the sky for a while. Almost like he is closing his eyes and inhaling her one last time.
The sun is slow in winter. She knows she’s disrupting the beautiful dark sky. She knows a winter morning isn’t all about her.
Never is the love between sun and moon more apparent than on a winter morning. It is why she is so gentle with him. It is a caress, a passing of hands, a letting go, as she kisses him goodbye and slides into dawn.
I live in the desert, and I adore the winters here. Last night the sky was so clear, there were endless stars. The winter sky was so full, it looked as it if might burst and rain light down on all of us. I could have watched moon and stars forever last night.
Maybe the sun is watching too and that is why she’s late, her fingers stay tangled in his a bit longer.
My thoughts from the laundry room. Turn Over.