Every once in a great while, something
comes along and captures your attention.
Sometimes, it’s a grandiose procedure that
sets hearts and minds ablaze.

Others, it’s a simple thing. The warm taste
of freshly made toast. A passing compliment.
The dimples in a loved one’s smile.

I, myself, have the privilege of waking up to
such a moment each and every morning.
It’s a phenomenon I find most intriguing,
and, I fear, many people will not relate with it.

In the early hours when small birds have just begun to
sing light onto the dark parchment of the morning,
I am the sole witness to a rather peculiar sensation.

Something I refer to as, “The Scarlet Dawn”
rouses me from sleep’s heavy, drunken embrace.
This sensation – may I call her a she? – flows through
me and, in a sense, prepares me for my day.

The beauty of this feeling lies in Her complete and utter
simplicity. She isn’t a roaring, burning, thrill of euphoria
that bursts from me in an unrestrained orgy of emotion.

Nor is She a steady torrent of calm and composed purpose.
Rather, She is a slow and gentle tug. A soft whisper, a gentle
reminder that a bright and shining day is ready for the taking.

In writing about Her, I’m faced with a couple problems.
My words cannot do Her justice, and I would liken describing
Her to describing the other women in my life, something that I find,
for better or worse, nearly impossible.

I find that in describing Her, I have broken some oath, some rule.
I never did promise I wouldn’t tell anyone about her, but I fear I have
mis-bequeathed some gift that was never left to me in the first place.

Dear Reader, I’m very sorry if my depiction of Her was lackluster.
To use superfluous and shiny language would be an insult – a disgrace
to her casual and understated serenity and elegance. After all,
one does not generally describe such nostalgia with zealous fury.

But, I digress. Let me, instead, specify what I’ve learned from
this most peculiar sensation, this “Scarlet Dawn” that
revitalizes me morning after glorious morning.

Above all, She has taught me to enjoy some of the morning’s
simple pleasures. I revel in the cleanliness and simplicity of
a freshly made bed. I relish the crisp morning air, and I glory in
twittering birds’ mellow songs. It is quite easy to lose the simple
sensations and pleasures of life among the ceaseless and ignominious
flurry of sound and sight and movement that weigh down the day, but luckily,
my Scarlet Dawn protects me from such unwelcome diversions.