Early Morning
I snuck out before dawn while the wife was still sleeping and headed for the Point Reyes Lighthouse. Morning was just starting to lift it's lazy head above the horizon and the colors were playing wistfully with the clouds and low light along Drake's Estero. In the moment, I was reminded of the beginning lines of Jane Kenyon's beautiful poem called "Happiness." The poem starts:
"There's just no accounting for happiness,
or the way it turns up like a prodigal
who comes back to the dust at your feet
having squandered a fortune far away."
You just never know when a sleepy early morning will turn into a moment of unbridled joy.
More happiness is to be had on black.
Drake's Estero, Point Reyes CA
Early Morning
I snuck out before dawn while the wife was still sleeping and headed for the Point Reyes Lighthouse. Morning was just starting to lift it's lazy head above the horizon and the colors were playing wistfully with the clouds and low light along Drake's Estero. In the moment, I was reminded of the beginning lines of Jane Kenyon's beautiful poem called "Happiness." The poem starts:
"There's just no accounting for happiness,
or the way it turns up like a prodigal
who comes back to the dust at your feet
having squandered a fortune far away."
You just never know when a sleepy early morning will turn into a moment of unbridled joy.
More happiness is to be had on black.
Drake's Estero, Point Reyes CA