Red Sky At Morn

Red sky at night, sailor's delight. Red sky at morn, sailors be warned.



I'm not sure how that old weather adage became so ingrained. Just one of those teacher tricks that stuck I guess. When first I saw the sky this morning, it flowed gently to the west, a quilt of soft muted grays, comfortable and inviting. As I looked to the east, the soft gray was tinged just a smidge with a rose tint so faint you thought you were seeing things. Then, over the church steeple, a wide swath of bright rose with gold overtones.



Directly beneath, to the far east, an angry red, a fire red, loud and ugly. By the looks of things, we were in for a pounding storm. Besides that, it was cold enough to see my breath hanging in the air like little pillows of steam. I glanced at the treetops where the blush of fall was already kissing the leaves and coaxing them to the ground. Hard to believe its still only August.



Just as quickly as the sky had blushed in embarrassment at sunrise, the cloud cover cleared. In minutes there was only an ordinary blue sky with a wisp of cloud faintly spread across the wide canvas. Had I dreamed the vivid colors, the strange, other planet, science fiction sky? Now everything looked ordinary - just another day beginning.

I half expected to hear a milk delivery truck rattle by and see a paper boy tossing the daily on doorsteps. For one odd moment, it felt as if I had stepped into the past, into a time of sanity and normalcy when neighbors knew each other and daily routines were predictable. The spell was quickly broken by the unexpected passing of an eighteen wheeler on Lyell Avenue, and life resumed its hectic pace with cars whizzing by and joggers bounding faithfully past, their attention absorbed by the sounds emanating from their earbuds.

What an auspicious start to a promising day!