The sun doesn’t rise quite the same when the rainfall of fall welcomes us all instead and slows the start of the day to a crawl. Has the sudden briskness not been enough? Can that jolt not, at least, come with the energy of the bright sunshine? Must we receive only the intense, nervous rush of a beating heart without the boost of caffeine?
It’s not for us, but shelfing our selfishness makes room to see who benefits. You can see and almost hear it when the water drops from the air: the world around us, opening up its pores like ours do in welcome of a hot shower, except for her it’s the dark earth, the blades of grass, and the bark-clad trees we’ve grown accustomed to. They exude life and step apart from the grey sentinels we’ve normalized to remind us just how un-alike they are.
The morning is no less inverted by the half-light or soaking the skin in a layer of ice-water, sensitive an extra measure to the thin wind cutting like razors, but it’s not our turn. It’s not our turn to have everything for a morning or maybe a day, but in a world shaped, labeled, and re-formed by us this seems fair.