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December Sunrise

Icy morning,

Water-color skies,

Oddly still

Beneath the rush hour roar

Growling from the highway over the ridge

Howell Trail

Traffic drones,

Muffled by the trail that curves behind thick brush.

Dried leaves,

Stark and brittle and brave,

Crumble at my touch,

Waiting to endure the coming winter,

Waiting in hope to burst forth again in spring.

Rocheport, Missouri

Covid summer, distanced travel, mostly staying outdoors.

Not all that different really, that what we’d normally do, except for the outdoor only eating as we travel

Nature trails, city parks, and tourists stops to break up the long northern drive to play with our grandkids again

It’s not exactly springtime on the deck, but it’s a lot warmer than it has been in a while. By mid-afternoon, the sun had fully broken through and chased away the thick low clouds that seemed to have become permanent fixtures.

I huddled for awhile in a blanket on the swing, reading and soaking in the sunshine.

In abrupt winter descent, the sunset ribbons brushed the horizon and threw the trees into stark silhouette against the sky.