Some days just rise without the need of a camera or an image, a painting or photo. It is what it is and imprints itself upon memory.
This morning was one of those awakenings. It caught me by surprise, just as I awakened, the eyebrow window above me framing the sliver of moon in the still darkened sky. I could see it slicing through the weathered limbs of the maples and oaks, the sharpened peaks of The Barn, with a lone star twinkling below it.
I remained there, prone. I watched as lunar magic pulled me into the newborn day and the dark sky gave way to light and hope and promises to keep, until I needed to rise, and did so just as the sun decided to paint the sky with colors only nature knows, a masterpiece painted into my memory.