Morning Has Broken

Sunrise over the Blue Ridge. June, 2006.
(Click picture for larger view)

Morning Has Broken
Morning has broken, like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for the springing fresh from the world

Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from heaven
Like the first dewfall, on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where his feet pass

Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God's recreation of the new day

~Lyrics by Eleanor Farjeon (1881 - 1965)

I love to drive at night, if going on a long trip. The highways are less crowded, the trucker's rigs line exit ramps with their yellow and red lights as they sleep, the dense forest spreads a canopy over both sides of the road glowing in the reflected headlights. It's quiet; often the air is still and there is such peace in the rhythmic clickity-clack sound of the tires on the pavement. The day slowly sneaks up on the sleeping world and at first you notice no distinct change in the sky, just the sensation of more light. Then the beautiful color show begins with navy, purples, pinks and yellows until at last the burning disc appears over the forest or mountain or ocean. Sometimes partially hidden behind a cloud, the rising sun will radiate smoky rays to push away the darkness and herald a new day. What is a sunrise? Hope. With each sunrise hope is renewed afresh. The time of sunrise may not be important; but that the "sun rises" is.

Submission to Tuesday Challenge for topic "sunrise".
Submission to LensDay for topic "light".
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