Circling Crown

The mountain emerged from the black
nighttime sky into the glory of morning's light.
And around her head she wore a crown,
a circle of whispy, grayish cloud that
wound itself round and round,
announcing the elegant arrival
of day.

It's enough to take one's breath away,
the contrast in soft, engaging light and the
fading shadow of night's retreat.
Unless, of course, one doesn't see the
spectacle played out on dawn's grand stage.
Unless, of course, one looks at his feet,
walks through the dawn with his eyes on
the ground, focused on phone calls,
appointments, and things that the new
busy day will inevitably bring.

To miss the circling royal crown, afire
from rays of eternal light, to miss
the mountain's gracious smile
is not to live at all.