At 5:15 I propped myself up in bed to watch the sunrise, John lying beside me sensibly still sleeping. Deer were out eating my rose bushes at first light. They are gentle and sweet, but I am getting a fence. As the sky lightened they moved on, but the birds remained: meadowlarks and other chirrups that I don’t know. The sky is less pink now, the clouds less dark and everything is getting brighter. There is the sun at 5:40, a sliver to a ball in less than a minute and me blinded and writing by feel. A mourning dove calls out the beginning of the day. Horses, new in town, whinny and geese honk their way into the air. I suspect they all know not to look into the center of the sun as I have. I may see pink spots all day.
