Sunrise: as observed by a skeptic

Dear Fellow Sunrise Skeptics,

 

My roommate woke me up at 6:23 in the morning to see the "super blood moon".

Let it be known, I did not find the reflection of sunlight upon the moon in any way "super".

My displeasure with the situation grew when the infamous blood moon was nowhere to be seen on the lake's horizon.

I quickly inferred from this that I had dragged myself out of bed to see nothing...

Zip...

Zilch...

Diddly-squat of blood moon...

As expected, I was ready to trek back to my, much warmer, dorm room when the sun began to rise at its expected 7:04.

Pleased with the promptness of the sun's ascent, I stopped to gaze out on the water.

While I would normally be indifferent to the glowing sphere of hot gas, even I had to admit the brilliant orb of light complimented the waves in an aesthetically pleasing manner.

The scattering of the gaseous molecules through the atmosphere allowed the color red to pierce through the visible light spectrum and stain the clouds in a vibrant display of color.

Until then, I had never understood the sentiment of a sunrise.

Yes, it does symbolize the birth of a new day.

Yes, it does look "pretty", as defined by social standards.

No, I did not deem the spectacle worthy of exiting the warmth of my bed...

That is, until the sun fully manifested from its cocoon of waves, mimicking an emerging butterfly.

Now usually, I would blame the occurrence of the flamboyant metaphor on the cold, but the atmospheric lens distributing hydrogen, helium, and carbon molecules across the terrain warmed me as much as any blanket could.

The dazzling display of gas tinted the sky with effervescent hues of orange and red...

Red...

Blood moon red...

Perhaps this trip wasn't an interruption of my REM cycle after all, for I did find the red I was promised 44 minutes earlier, only in a different form than expected.

As it turns out, gas molecules traveling 92.96 million miles could only warm my body to a certain extent.

So when I felt the numbness creep up my fingers and into my palms, I turned and ventured back to the assured warmth of my dorm, with yellow-tinged light cresting over the horizon behind me.

My concluding thought to other sunrise skeptics is this:

 

Hydrogen, helium, and carbon are the most beautiful at 7:12 in the morning.

 

Cordially, a now hesitant skeptic 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world
Guide that inspired this poem: 

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