The light of the sun is teasing the morning. Mocking me as boisterous deities are


prone to do. She meanders when she thinks I am impatient; reducing, then enlarging


me, as if I am simply a second thought or one of her whimsical fantasies no lighter


than air. A bewitching trickster who artfully conceals her flames, she is a fire-


breathing orb. Chimera is her name. Those mornings I feel most holy are the


mornings she is the sternest mother. Prone to delusions and distractions, I am a


neophyte at the art of etting go. I easily forget. A single ray, a solitary bolt of


her eternal light is all it takes to humble me. She illuminates my flimsy truths


with a furious and brutal passion. Her clarion call is a lullaby to nocturnal


pranksters everywhere. To creatures great and small and in between like the


crickets and frogs and their pals with no name, whom having frolicked all evening


in the bobcat's lair, are sated and jolly and ready for rest. Amber shards begin


piercing the night as the hawks with the river red shoulders flex their wings on


the trampoline sky. A chorus of praise for this glorious day erupts from morning


marauders. Noble cranes dressed in feathers of blue come together to pray in the


mist. They are a benediction for you and me, for all God’s creatures yet to be.



Topanga Canyon California, USA

08/11/2006

Posted on 08/11/2006
Copyright © 2025 Scott Utley