Sunrise
It's a long drive up to the woods on the lake
At least a long drive to make before dawn,
When I still have to make it to work later. . .
But I want to see the sunrise.
I want to see the sun float round and pink into the yellow sky,
With the water sparkling from black to gold beneath it,
And the forest stirred to misty life by warm fingers of light.
It's all worth it, to see the sunrise.
Of course, I could settle for an ordinary sunrise.
I could sit in my robe on the front porch
And see half a globe ride up the side of a house--
That is, after all, a sunrise.
But I'm not an ordinary person.
I don't want to look down a crowded street.
I will rise in the darkness and drive with the moon
For an extraordinary sunrise.
And so, determined, I sit among the dark dewy leaves,
And pull soft flannel across my cheek against the chill . . .
Waiting, blinking sleep-heavy eyes across a black lake,
Just to see the sunrise.
And then, the first pale beams of light break;
My heart soars--it's happening!
The blackness turns to misted gray:
I'm here, for the sunrise.
But, just at that moment, fat raindrops splatter down
And the first wan light reveals clouds I hadn't noticed before.
Blackness fades only to the dim kind of gray that will endure until nightfall;
There will be no extraordinary sunrise.
The day passes, and in the evening I listen to the weatherman:
Will it rain tomorrow? I want to try again.
Something about the pink and golden dawn beckons;
I must see the sunrise.
He says it will rain. But I'm too stubborn, and I have to try,
So again I shiver in soft flannel in the dark predawn forest,
And again watch the sun fade into wan existence overhead.
But it could have been a sunrise.
On the long drive home, I question myself:
The rain could have made for a spectacular show,
But the weatherman said it wouldn't, and I came anyway,
Just in case there was a sunrise.
The next morning is supposed to be the same,
And I am tempted to stay at home, not to waste the effort,
But I find myself driving by headlights down a gravel road
On my way to see the sunrise.
Again, vague disappointment; the rain holds
And the sun rises without putting out its banners.
So I drive back home cold, damp, unfulfilled,
Needing, now, the sunrise.
And I know that I will be back in the morning.
Because the rain simply cannot last forever,
And there is nothing more certain anywhere:
One morning soon, the sun will rise.
I know the effort seems absurd;
The sun will also rise on my front porch
And I'm wasting gas coming out here every morning
For a gray, do-nothing sunrise.
But my heart sings that there will be nothing more spectacular,
Than the sun rising over the golden ripples of water, when it happens
And I know that the morning I am here to experience it
I will not regret the sunrise.
And so I will be back tomorrow, and again and again if need be,
Because I will not settle for ordinary when spectacular exists.
I am an extraordinary woman. And I will do whatever it takes
To see my extraordinary sunrise.
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