Hannah L Stone

this is where I write the light
the light against the dark

the light against the dark

 

Something stirs within me when the sky looks like it did this morning.

Luminous blue with clouds streaked along its surface, too bright to look at, on one half of the sky.  Turning your head, even just slightly and there you will see dark blue, like the depth of the ocean encapsulating the sky.  It will make you think of words like foreboding, impending and brooding.  A slight swivel of your head and you can go from bathed in glorious light to looking at a horizon wrought with stormy makings.

It somehow feels like a warning bell has been wrung … it’s coming/it’s here/it’s coming/it’s here/it’s coming/it’s here … the sky shouts out.  Already, not yet, look up – the light and the storm.  It’s coming/it’s here.  You are here.

What I love is the light.  How the sun, rising in brilliance, is made to be a beacon – a spot light against the stormy end of the sky.

If you know me, you know it is going to come back around to the trees.  It’s the trees – glowing in the light against the velvet sky that beg to be looked at.  Hours from now when the light returns to normal these trees will just be trees.  Fall foliage still clinging to branches, or empty sticks poking up.  Later in the regular light they will look lonely and barren – you might even be tempted to pity them.  You might think they look archaic.

But not this morning.  In this spectacular light, it’s the light that does the magic.  Transforms.  Now these spindly branches reaching to the heavens, they shine.  They are not dying leaves, they are not archaic branches, lost, barren, out of touch.  No.  They are regal sentinels standing guard.  On full display, begging you to look at them. Silently standing against the backdrop of dark – standing in the spotlight of light.  Dazzling.  How can you look away from such delight?  How can you be anything other than amazed as you see them glow against that backdrop of coming dark that is stamped across the sky.

And that dark?  It doesn’t say foreboding, impending, brooding anymore.  It cowers in the corner with the glowing trees standing guard.

It’s coming/it’s here/it’s coming/it’s here …

Already.  Not yet.  With the majestic sentinels standing guard in the light – begging to be seen.

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