This morning when I sat down at the window, I knew that it was the moment before the gold. I've sat in that chair long enough to know. The sky was...just about to burst open--at least a slit in the east. I could feel the pressure building; the trees, as always, wait for whatever comes.
There was a slight change in tone; the air...shifted...the top branches, for a moment, slightly whitened, and then were on fire. But what was unique this morning is that the huge tree directly across from where I sit, which always stays dark, was also afire--shining tan gold against the still white-gray sky. The ballet, the architecture of its branches--some storm-broken--blazed, a city burning gold, each limb distinct, the labyrinth of its avenues and colonnades glowing.
I couldn't write. I wanted nothing more than what I was being given--and I was being given everything. Then I was given more. The sky became a deep, soft blue that's now lighter, airier, settling down for the rest of the day.
William Blake writes this:
To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.
I can't claim what he so confidently asserts. What I can claim is that I was given a gift.
There was a slight change in tone; the air...shifted...the top branches, for a moment, slightly whitened, and then were on fire. But what was unique this morning is that the huge tree directly across from where I sit, which always stays dark, was also afire--shining tan gold against the still white-gray sky. The ballet, the architecture of its branches--some storm-broken--blazed, a city burning gold, each limb distinct, the labyrinth of its avenues and colonnades glowing.
I couldn't write. I wanted nothing more than what I was being given--and I was being given everything. Then I was given more. The sky became a deep, soft blue that's now lighter, airier, settling down for the rest of the day.
William Blake writes this:
To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.
I can't claim what he so confidently asserts. What I can claim is that I was given a gift.
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