I start each day with the dogs, we work our way up the hill from the house to the roundelay & are usually greeted by Eos as she parts the gates of heaven with her rosy fingers & diadem of white feathers, fluttering & ethereal, preparing the world for the glory of her brother Apollo as he drives his chariot pulling Helios behind illuminating our world in a fiery display of nature and physics and things we can only understand intuitively/naturally.
& it is second by second, minute by minute that her handiwork & beauty are revealed/a conductor cuing the larks & the engines of commerce & the crashing waves/as the sounds, each individual one vies for momentary supremacy. color radiates visually & so dramatically that it has an aural quality.
The dogs taught me that. That color has a sound & a smell & a tactile quality. dawn tastes of tangerines & peppers; smells of dew & rabbits; feels slick, a coating of oil on rain-slicked slurry, silky, satiny smooth.
And as it gets lighter, more detail is put into relief against the shadowy valleys & sun-kissed (not trite, but true) mountain-tops, when they sing of purple mountains’ majesty you can almost believe that Casper David Friedrich is planted there in front of you with his easel & his pots of paint/a palette of purples/oranges/violets/whites/blues swirling in the misty vales, sparkling in the dewy dawn light.
And as the dogs and I turn away from our easterly promenade we catch a moment (a heart beat) of brilliance slipping up the northern ridge & you do have to wonder & marvel at the brilliance of nature & of our world. It’s uplifting & maddening all at once–that man can be so amazing & so stupid & that power does corrupt & that love is everywhere you look.