Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme

My calling voice this morning was the voice of work. But I haven’t the stamina from last winter. After two hours of pre-dawn lecture writing (I have a class to present this morning), I crawled back to bed.

And then I did what I do just about every morning: I watched the morning come in.

Some days (today) I am more awake for this than on other days, but rarely does this hour pass without me noting its stunning beauty.

I keep the curtains open in the bedroom. It is completely private: only the white pines that I planted years ago can witness what takes place inside this great room. And I keep the window open. Not in the dead of winter, but at all other times.

And so the day starts with a bird chorus and a misty green outside – gray at first, and more translucent as the sun breaks loose.

In all my travels, no wake-up scene has impressed me more. And I know that it will no longer be with me when I begin my mornings at Bassett.

This morning, just before dawn, from my pillow: sublime.