Dawning Poetic

Yesterday's morning sky provided some spectacular images.

Yesterday's dawn brings to mind a poem by G. F. Scott.

"Dawn"

THE immortal spirit hath no bars
To circumscribe its dwelling place;
My soul hath pastured with the stars
Upon the meadow-lands of space.

My mind and ear at times have caught,
From realms beyond our mortal reach,
The utterance of Eternal Thought
Of which all nature is the speech.

And high above the seas and lands,
On peaks just tipped with morning light,
My dauntless spirit mutely stands
With eagle wings outspread for flight.
—Frederick George Scott (1861 - 1944)

Moments later, the sun rose:

From “Sunrise”

. . . . . . . . . . . .
So tell me, rising Sun, I pray,
What are you bringing me to-day?

What shall this busy brain have thought,
What shall these hands and feet have wrought,
What sorrows shall the hours have brought,

Before thy brilliant course is run,
Before this new-born day is done,
Before you set, O rising Sun?
—Frederick George Scott (1861 - 1944)

Later, for a few minutes in the morning, the clouds looked like this:

These clouds aren't "mean," but they're low and unusual.
Emily Dickinson's poem sort of fits.

"The Sky is low -- the Clouds are mean"

The Sky is low -- the Clouds are mean.
A Travelling Flake of Snow
Across a Barn or through a Rut
Debates if it will go --

A Narrow Wind complains all Day
How some one treated him
Nature, like Us is sometimes caught
Without her Diadem.
—Emily Dickinson

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