Have you ever seen a blue more electric than the sky's edge just before dawn? And the moon's vivid thumbnail lodged in the trees. I might have rolled over and missed this. Look out there--this planet, this great sphere just hanging, gliding past, keeping close, and we get to watch.
And all these rigid nursemaids, the junipers, standing in predawn silhouette revealed as unique from one to the next as bees are. (This is true. Look closely from bee to bee next time.) One is dense, another airy. Rounded, pointed, acute, cuspidate, obtuse, apiculate.... They're grim enough to get the job done, these trash trees, the locals call them, this scourge of the slopes where pines have been, hanging in, doing the work of life here for a while, shading the little saplings of cedar and pine trying to come back, speaking to our dreams each night until we come around, forcing their booming voices into the ground when the wind so conducts. I forgive us for misunderstanding.
7:05:49 AM 
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