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Skyfire


Somber grays fill the sleepy sky in puffs and wisps. Its pallor, little to behold. 
 Then morning’s blush rises and washes away the gray and as it blooms, gold and fiery orange begin their dance upon the clouds.
 First one, then the other, each rising in crescendo before giving way to each other, and wakes the sky.  Shaking off its solemn rest the horizon begins to glow yellow-green, then vivid fuchsia ignites the whole of it behind the tango celebrating the arrival of day.  

And deep blue and dusty plum envelope to calm the sky fire and playful pink lights here and there, until the purest of gold is left awaiting the moment.  

From horizon to horizon the colors play until the blue snaps brightly to attention and wisps and strokes reflect brilliant white.  

The orb rises slowly, stretching far, burning off any remaining hue, demanding our gaze be turned away from the beauty.  

For surely if we beheld it too long, we would come to worship the beautiful creation, slighting the Beautiful Creator - that bids us, gives us, a glorious “good morning.”  The Son.

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