Pretty baby, won't you
Wake up, it's a Chelsea morning
I was never a huge Joni Mitchell fan but, ya know, some tunes are infectious. They drill down into my brain like a rampaging virus. And, often enough, that’s way cool.
I woke early this morning – early enough to drive down to Nantasket for a bit of dawn light and then sunrise. Given yesterday's temps (in the blistering 90s!), it should’ve come as no shock that, at 6AM, there were more folks on the beach than uszh. OK, it wasn’t a crowd scene by any means but I’m accustomed to seeing, AT MOST, one or, tops, two other sunrise watchers. Today? At least a dozen. I know, I know. THE HORRAH! (or “horror” if you’re not from around these parts).
Dawn is the time when nothing breathes, the hour of silence. Everything is transfixed, only the light moves.An aside – early in our courting days, The Amazing Bob introduced me to the French surrealist poets. I asked him, How do you pronounce Rimbaud? Imagine my big surprise (as well as major grins) on hearing the answer.
~ Leonora Carrington
Ceaseless as the interminable voices of the bell-cricket, all night till dawn my tears flow.
~ Murasaki Shikibu, The Tale of Genji
The morning steals upon the night,
Melting the darkness.
In the dawn, armed with a burning patience, we shall enter the splendid Cities.
~ Arthur Rimbaud, Season in Hell & Other Poems
Without further ado OR verbomania – here, have some some pics.