The alarm clock sounds. A new day has dawn. A brisk November morn.
But a beautiful sunrise can sometimes be marred by our own invention.
We’ve grown accustomed to the power coming on each time we throw the switch.
And I wonder how we will ever survive without it when it’s gone.
But sometimes it’s just in the way.
When you’d rather stand in the still of the fields.
With the chilled morning air biting at your cheeks.
As you marvel at the birth of a new days beginning.