The sunrise is a gift.
Intensifying yellows and pinks,
Culminating in the sight of our star.
And I thought, as we all turned back to our cars,
Ready to avoid the wind and get home
For breakfast or a nap,
How easy to forget that the day
Is also a gift,
As the grey of twilight becomes the colors of dawn.
Undoubtedly a man born blind
Would appreciate the sunrise.
But I suspect he would appreciate
The persistent colors of day more.
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