An Ashy Sunrise
I woke up this morning to an ashy sunrise.
The glowing ball of our closest star was burnt orange, its rays competing with smoke from distant wildfires. It reminded me of looking at the sun through eclipse glasses, an encounter I had just two weeks before. The dimness. The sphere of the sun made obvious. An eerie feeling, to be sure.
Something else greeted me as I walked out the door this morning: flecks of ash on my car. I presumed it was ash, based on Facebook posts from friends of mine encountering similar circumstances. Flecks of ash that were once trees, and maybe grasslands, floating hundreds of miles away to land here.
Imagine the sights that ash has seen. The views of fire and scorched earth from high above. The energy and sweat and blood of people trying to keep more forest lands from sharing the ash’s fate. The final peaceful fall to an unburnt and unscorched landscape, the heat and fire and madness left far behind.
How serene it must be, a mote of ash in the wind. Something created through such chaos, now destined for the opposite.