I Discovered a Gift at Rock Bottom That Springs Eternal

The fall air feels good on my face and wakes me up. It’s quiet. The birds aren’t even awake.

The sun barely peeks above the horizon, and already its artistry has begun, the eastern sky ablaze in color. To the west, the light of a few lonely stars fade.

I look at where yesterday meets today, the black of night transforming into the dawn of a new day. Black to blue to purple, a cool pink on the fringe.

The forest is alive with color, the fall foliage reflecting the morning light, oranges, reds, and yellows. The oak trees, always the last to turn, still holding their green leaves.

I understand why Monet preferred to paint by the morning and evening light.

I may be in prison, but every clear morning I escape. The beauty of being connected to nature; it’s bigger than this place.

I can’t change my circumstances; they’re not what I want. But my interactions with it, what I do with what I have, that’s mine.

I’m happy the library’s empty as I open my journal. There’s only one thing I want to write,

“I am grateful for this morning’s sunrise and that I was able to experience it.”

I’m discovering a gift in rock bottom that seems to have no end: