From under the covers we watch,
observing the sun stir from its own bed
and push with labor pains into the sky.
In slow incremental gradations,
and yet so abruptly,
light makes its first impression,
becoming distinguishable
to the untrained eye once more.
And here those blinking
night lights of metropolis
hemorrhage into one another
until they fade against
rising pinnacles, spires,
and sparse clouds in contrast
to the horizon's orange canvas.
I reach for the camera
as she pads nakedly to the window,
transfixed upon the birth of new day
in such breathtakingly ornate environs.
She quite smiles her admiration,
and as I capture the unguarded moment,
I am struck over how the two of us
marvel at the beauty of this outside world
far more than we do our own.