Early morning, and I open my eyes tentatively, wondering.
When I look out my window,
will the hills be alight with sunshine?
Will fog shroud the world in gray, obscuring everything?
Or will fog and sunshine play with each other,
perhaps a bridal veil trailing from the top of Black Hill,
or a light white blanket in the low places,
the hills rising above into the sunlight?
On sunny afternoons, my eyes scan the
western sky, looking for hints of the coming sunset.
Will a clear sky mean solid sheets of gradually changing color?
Will the sun sink down amidst scattered clouds in
glories of orange, red, and pink?
Or will the marine layer crawl in,
silent and stealthy, to
smother the sunset completely?