Which brings us to sunrise. I get up about six each morning, carry a cup of coffee outside, take a look at the sky and trees and houses around me, whiff the air. What a beautiful, perfect time the hour of first light. In the summertime it's light enough for you to see the world waking up. The birds hop in the branches.
Light announces the sunrise.
In winter it's too dark to see the world waking up but you can hear it and feel it. I'll sit outside the big tin barn I work in, feel the coffee hot in my throat, and say a short prayer of thanks for this life, and for all the life around me. For all the blessings I have, and all those I don't know I have. That first hour writing is my favorite. I sit down, get to the last page I wrote, and stare at it for a while.