Sunday Morning by Kat Magendie

Good Morning World. An August morning sun has risen over the mountain ridge, sending what someone once told me is “God’s Fingers” touching here, there, here, and over there; this late-summer morning, I do not question her God or a god, for as I blink away sleep and see the morning unfold from outside my windows, I have to consider a creator of such beauty—and if one does not exist, I will never know it at the end, so at what cost is it to wonder and dream and contemplate Bigger things than I? My friend would laugh at me and nod in her knowing way.

This Sun casting its light and warmth out over the mountains and into my bedroom compels one to look directly into its center for long and longer, but one can not, lest one become blinded by it. Sun does not allow for long stares because it is greater than the eye can hold. Even looking too intently at a photo of the August morning sun glares the eye, causes one to look away before its imprint is forever cast in shadow behind the eyelids, leaving images of orange-red burned into retinas. The atmosphere and distance filters so that I will feel its warmth without the raging boil, what a grand plan, or trick of accident? Who am I to decide this perfect morning?

Old Moon is just out of sight but is surely there, waiting for the evening come. But I will not get ahead of myself as I often do; first there is the great day, the great and beautiful and come what may day. The trees wave, sounds of leaves against each other. I’ll let the day before me stretch out, let the sleep of night drift off in the wind. Last night’s rain droplets still fall from tree limbs onto the earth where it sinks into the heavy dark soil, much needed after the long time dry: the earth has a way of replenishing, but not always on our schedule. Life is not a schedule, but a series of surprises and events that interrupt the schedules we create.

Metaphorically and imaginatively take my hand, come with me and we'll forget everything but the mists and wind and trees and rain and, of course the Sun and this waking up Sunday Morning. We’ll be grateful for each other, friends and family and stranger, all.