Quickly I crunched my way across the field to the hilltop where I could lean against a large poplar tree with the wind at my back. Note the direction of the woodsmoke from my chimney as I look down the hill to my right. (I've lightened the photo so you can see it.)
The lights slowly came on in the eastern sky.
In the beginning pinks and lilacs ruled the air . . .
. . .then the sky dial turned toward metallic amber, gold and yellow, highlighting bits of blue above.
Next it was time for a few highlights. First, nature gives it a go, sending
a lone crow across the washed pallet . . .
Then the seldom subtile hand of humankind sends out a flash at each corner of my vision in a futile attempt to compete . . .
. . .for nature returned by painting a swath of blue and filling it with a congress of crows . . .
. . . each cawing in its turn to wish me a happy morning.
I smile and promptly turn toward home for the breath of the rising sun has shifted the wind. It now hits my face head-on chilling my skin and forcing my numb fingers into my pockets.
(A Murder of Crows is releasing January 11, 2011)