Edge of Dawn

Living where I do, in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada, I wake up to beautiful sunrises. My studio window looks up toward peaks and a bit of a bowl shape. When the sun comes up behind the peaks some areas glow while others remain in deep shadow; big old oaks, naked of their leaves for winter, take on a ghostly look with branches appearing silver; distances are confused; and the sky has a brief moment of appearing to have been painted. Then, blink, it's gone, and the light eases toward daylight.