A faint glow on the eastern horizon
gets brighter
as if someone were blowing on ashes
lights up more ash clouds
until there is no doubt
the fire is lit
the day will come from yesterday’s coals.
The orange clouds
look like birds
circling
until the sun hits my eyes
and bathes me in light
too bright to watch anymore
reflected in the concentric circles
of my coffee cup
through the hot vapor cloud
of my breath.
Two hundred twenty-nine people
were killed in an airline crash this morning.
Who is glad that I am alive
today?
Photography credit: Unknown (originally color).
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