Bring the Sunrise

“There are some mysterious elements at work.”
‘How do you perceive the mysterious elements?’
“That’s up for you to decide. Because what I perceive may be different than what you perceive.”
‘Well, what do you perceive?’
“You know, I haven’t quite figured it out, yet. Some would say Jesus.”

Through the east bank roadway to town, the open skies and fields held an air that chipped through my thin jacket and long sleeve. My torso temperature warmed but my thighs, from air through my jeans, stayed cool as I climbed the bridge over the Willamette River that was constant: slow, but proven powerful from risen sediment below the surface.

It was matte: the color of day raised orange at the horizon through trees and lifted to sea green as a spectrum of blue went to black at west where stars twinkled. As it rose, sun light seemed to erupt through the atmosphere as a tropical orange spread out around the sphere of sight. As the colors came to, the objects before them deepened to silhouettes that crystallized as dark shadows with distance like space beyond our galaxy. Cars passed below in series of red and headlight yellow colors under illuminated canopies of white  and warm street lights to work.

When the sun had near risen (7:39), the most of sky above held a light blue with the horizon line as its border of light orange held at east and violet at west. It was noticeable: the sun rose more north toward spring. The orb of it was visible through the low fog and rose in a fiery flicker. At the east, the coast range illuminated in a thick coat of purple color with the space between the trees as a dark space that patterned the rolling hills.