Morning delivers its windows right on time, and I’m eager to see out of them.

Upon rigorous inspection I see that there is not a speck of dust or a smear on the new windows, and that they are the perfect transparencies they were advertised as being.

Through morning’s windows I’m able to watch the sun rise, seeing the world come to life as if arising slowly from the sea, a submerged continent at once alien and promising, having shaken off overnight everything that had plagued it, silently vowing to show its newfound purity as the light that makes us—at least all of us seeing it this way—responsible.

Sunflower grown by Larry Hedderman of Powell, Wyoming, as photographed in Hedderman’s back yard, July, 2018, by the author.