Daylight-saving time has arrived yet again. Aside from the obvious extra 60 minutes (and much needed) of sleep I will get this coming Sunday, the darkened mornings when I venture out offer a grand view of the skyline as the sun begins to wake for the day. I have been awarded the genuine radiance of this display on the past two mornings, and I wasted not a minute grumbling about the traffic since the crawl afforded me the ability to marvel at its simplicity. The cerulean sky was juxtaposed against the soft light-orange clouds. Some were wispy strips that stretched well beyond lengths I could see, while others were wider, shaped like the overlapping ridges on a washboard. The cloud swirls covered so much of the sky that there was only the faintest hint of blue beyond them.
I question whether my fellow travelers saw what I did. I am pessimistic enough to say I doubt it since the backdrop to this wonder was horns honking steadily, tires screeching loudly, and hand gestures flying. So much for serenity.
