Mine is the Sunlight, Mine is the Morning
Last night i got so tired i couldn't sit up anymore and only then picked a rather dumb fight with Surly (who handled it with his usual grace, calm and aplomb--he's far too good to me). And it pretty much all stemmed from stress and absolute, utter exhaustion, a good chunk of which was erased with a good eight or nine hours of sleep.
We've got a window in our bedroom that faces east, and it's been replaced with glass blocks. The head of the bed is up against that window. When i woke up--already feeling a hundred times better, and a hundred times more human--the sun was streaming in, slantwise and golden, through the glass block, filling the air over our heads with light. It was very beautiful, very peaceful, and it's something i don't get to see very often with my schedule, as i'm usually up before the sun tops the trees.
I found this in Althouse's blog, and it really seemed right:
Morning has broken, like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for the springing fresh from the world
Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from heaven
Like the first dewfall, on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where his feet pass
Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God's recreation of the new day
-Eleanor Farjeon
We've got a window in our bedroom that faces east, and it's been replaced with glass blocks. The head of the bed is up against that window. When i woke up--already feeling a hundred times better, and a hundred times more human--the sun was streaming in, slantwise and golden, through the glass block, filling the air over our heads with light. It was very beautiful, very peaceful, and it's something i don't get to see very often with my schedule, as i'm usually up before the sun tops the trees.
I found this in Althouse's blog, and it really seemed right:
Morning has broken, like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for the springing fresh from the world
Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from heaven
Like the first dewfall, on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where his feet pass
Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God's recreation of the new day
-Eleanor Farjeon