a love letter to the sky

Dear morning sky, Texas sky, Rainbow Ranch sky,

I miss those days of walking out my front door at Bryarwood, stretching my arms over my head, and smiling, “Good morning, Texas, I love you!” (with exclamation point and all).

Funny how the familiar, these decades on Rainbow Ranch, make even the morning sky look like its plain old self.  What is that phrase? Familiarity breeds contentment. Or sometimes resentment?

New eyes, how to look through eyes open to the newness, the unrepeatableness of this moment of morning sky?

Good morning, sky.

Good morning, Texas sky.

Good morning, Rainbow Ranch sky.