Mornings possess possibility.
Plump puffy cumulus clouds are barely visible in the minute marking the time of scarcely sunrise, the moment before the full light of the sun illuminates my world. Birds remain quiet and the last dry leaves gently rustle in the breeze. Seed pods hang ready to drop from the sweet gum tree that birthed seven babies this year. Green grass lingers in late December.
I wonder how much the clouds change in one minute. I set the timer on my phone.
The Earth is rotating as I am standing still, looking up. Clouds are moving, fuzzy edges merging into each other, forming larger shapes. Movement is slow and graceful as the clouds roll together and pull apart. Small places of light grow as the sky continuously changes.
With more light comes color. The edges of the clouds transition from gray to pastel pink to yellow to white. Patches of blue sky begin to appear…disappear…and appear in a new position.
I notice my eyes moving to embrace the images, feel the muscles in my neck when I turn my head.
Allowing the time to enjoy the unfolding sight of something as simple as the morning cloud cover is amazingly exciting. In my peripheral vision I see the breeze moving the tree branches with a different velocity than the winds moving the clouds far above the planet.
By the end of the minute, my eyes perceive faint tints and hues reminiscent of the paint-by-number kits that contain not just one color for the sky, but many different shades of blue. The combination of assorted blues in a particular order creates an image that mimics the real sky. A visual minute is so full the conscious mind often sifts out all but the images required for survival: ground, sky, clouds, daylight. Today I appreciate the expanded visual experience.
– Open your eyes and look up at the sky. Feel the movement of your eyes; notice the muscles of your neck.
– Notice the MANY shades of color in nature.