Wednesday, November 16, 2005

Morning Drama

The clouds are a dark lid on the world. But it is an ill-fitting lid; to the south one mountain keeps it from sealing tightly. The open area glows gently white in a world of darkness, then turns a deep orange-red. Suddenly it turns gold, and it is obvious this is a living thing, trying to get inside. It reaches tentacles of light inside, refusing to be kept out. I can almost hear the lid rattling against the surrounding hills, although in reality the struggle takes place in silence.

The mountain is surrounded, almost eclipsed by the bright rays as they force their way in the wedge. And then they retreat, perhaps to find an easier lid to loosen. All that remains is a white glow through the slit, but it is enough to lighten the sky, revealing the circle of mountains that hold the cloud-lid tightly to the north and the west.

Only St. Helens stands tall, holding the edge of the lid up with her broken arms. But the light creature has retreated and she looses strength, lowers her arms, and allows the lid to settle around her waist. She will save her strength and try again tomorrow to keep the clouds from sealing out the sun. A bright orb floats into the crack sending a burst of orange rays across the land. It hovers there, peering inside, a bright promise. The lid may hold today, but the sun will persist. This is a silent and solemn promise, delivered before she pulls back the light and moves on.

No comments: