or you can read this poem I wrote to inspire someone:
As the sun slowly comes over the mountains, lifting the darkness and haze of night away clearing the way for daylight, I wonder what colors the sky will be as the sun separates the night from the mountains. Will I see the purple haze that Frances Scott Key wrote about or the muted reds that we get when the haze and fog don't want to leave quite yet. I lay in the solarium looking out the windows and slowly watch the progression. It looks like it's going to purple, but the night hasn't decided for sure if it will give way to the sun that easy. I watch the struggle that happens each day and see who will finally win, not that it's a real battle, but more of a metaphoral battle over color, almost like the battle we have daily with ourselves over our lives. Purple wins today, wonder who will win tomorrow?
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