Through the glass was the ever-changing art of the sky, the clouds that brought infinite images of beauty. There was something in that feeling of gratitude, for all those gifts given so freely, all for spending a moment gazing into the blue. On this wintry morning, I watched the cloud patterns no eye had ever seen before or would again. At dawn, it was just the same, such a casual beauty, transient and eternal, changing and constant.
By the sky sheet, as I looked through the window, the sign of golden rays stretching outward into the rich blue bloomed over the horizon. Washing the white fabrics into the shade of soft tangerine, the sunrise had the warmest hue.
