I call it the moment of enchantment. It happens every day at the same time—a fleeting moment; a capsule of time in the form of wonder. I see it, I run to it—open-mouthed in astonishment and wonder, the morning in the hollow of my hands; ready to capture a whiff of diminutive gleaming luminaries.
But you really have to pay attention to what’s going on around you… for if you don’t you’ll miss the moment. The enchantment vanished into nothingness... until the following day, at the same time.
I’m referring to that enchanting moment when the sun—a lamp placed at a finite distance dances in the horizon and ever so slowly glides across the sky, descends upon our little white cottage and bends down to peek in... through the living room windows… light filling up the room; pure bright light poured down in buckets of gold all over the furnishing; playing with the objects as it makes rainbows on floors and ceilings…
I love it. Love that light of the early riser sun.
WHAT'S IT WEDNESDAY