A sunrise

Morning is not my time. It is usually the time that sleep, which ordinarily spends the full night taunting and then eluding me, now attempts to ensnare me at that moment I need to quit purusing it. But when one is staying at a resort directly on the beach, one is obligated to get up early enough to go out to that beach and watch a sunrise. Today was that day.

The sky had already begun to lighten well before I arrived, and darkness itself had been well and truly vanquished long before I took up my post on the corner of the walkway overlook, not wanting to sacrifice my ankles to the demon beach sand. This day was simply and only for watching the sun rise. No pictures or video clips. No distractions. Only a drink to sip on, and eyes peeled to the east.

A few people were about; a smattering of morning walkers on the beach, including the ubiquitous older fellows with their metal detectors and at least one man toting a surfboard; one or two on other parts of the walkway overlook, cameras or phones at the ready; one couple in conversation with another woman, the only disruption of the beachside pseudo-silence.

Of course, it is no silence, not truly; nature has more than enough to say if one listens in such a setting. On this day it is the waves on the beach generating the most chatter. They have been stirred up by an extremely sizable hurricane in the Atlantic, one that has had the nickname "large Larry" attached to it since one of the earliest advisories on the storm in its hurricane shape began with the alliteration "Large Larry lumbering...". Large Larry has been kind enough to steer its major-storm winds well clear of land masses or populated areas to this point. Bermuda may yet be affected by the storm, and the extreme outer fringes of Newfoundland may get brushed by it much later. But for now, it is merely a large storm with high winds and enough force to generate substantial waves and swells as far as the eastern coasts of the US, including this outpost in Florida.

And those waves clamor for attention. Look at me, they say. Listen to me. I am far more interesting than that big gas ball in the sky. Look how large I am. Listen to how fierce I am. See how I am stripping away the sand from this beach. Pay attention to me. 

And of course, they are fascinating in themselves. They are large for this location. They are generating a great deal of noise. They are indeed stripping away sand from the beach. I am here just as high tide is wrapping up. The waves make it clear that it is not their choice to pull back. I'll be back, they say. I may be pulling back for now, but I will be back. I promise you that. 

They are most distracting in themselves. However, they cannot claim main-attraction status for this moment, for just when one is almost ready to forget the reason for being out on this beach before being fully awake, the tiniest of orange slivers has appeared on that horizon, slightly south of due east.

More observers have accumulated on the overlook and the beach itself by now, just in time for the main attraction from which they seem rather distracted. The sun is booking it this morning. That tiny orange sliver is already growing into a quarter-, third-, even half-sun. Before one can even calculate how long it will take, that sun has overtopped the horizon, perched like a child's favorite ball waiting to be kicked or tossed or picked up and lumbered around.

But wait; there is a challenge yet coming. The luminous orange disk is encountering a small cloud. Just as it had so quickly cleared the horizon it now slipped hastily behind the small cloud. It isn't a solid cloud; the sun can still glimmer through its thinner places, not with the vivid orange glow of its first appearing, but now brightly spreading its illumination from behind the cloud. 

The cloud is small, and the sun does not take long to surmount it as well. It is not the same sun as before; the orange luminescence is now transigured into the diffuse yet illuminating yellow that we know from our daytime hours. It is shining now, and ready to claim its rightful place of importance in a sky that has few other obstacles or challenges to offer. 

And it is done. A sunrise has been completed. The day is on.