Capturing Dawn

Each day I travel from the far northern suburb of a teaming metroplex into the hub of the inner city. The stark contrast between my rural suburbia and the concrete jungle crept into my consciousness yesterday, making my senses wake up and notice. As I journeyed past twisted trees and sprawling farms dotted with thoroughbreds and speckled longhorns, a blanket of mists covered the sleeping ground, hugging its contours at every dip and divot. The scenery evolved around me, slowly changing from farm to factory, from factory to skyscraper. Like a mystery, that short moment of time called dawn united the myriad views.

When I was young I used to get up early every morning and race down the hill to catch that delicious, shivery feeling of dawn creeping up the mountain behind my father's barn. In my teens I discovered there was a magic moment at twilight as well. Being a slug-a-bed, I saw many more twilights than dawns. As an adult, I rush through my life hurrying to get through traffic and make it to appointments. Until yesterday I forgot the magic of capturing dawn.

Today I crawled out early and escaped late to witness both dawn and twilight, to let the enigmatic harmony of both speak peace inside my soul. In a moment, the magic was gone, but its haunting mystery is a part of me forever.