The WordPress genies recovered this post from the ether. Mine is not to question how…….
It is not without irony that seeing a “sleeper sunrise”–a band of bright color that breaks through a predawn bank of blue-black at the horizon, often evaporating so quickly that the sleep-saturated will never even imagine it–is among insomnia’s best byproducts.
I have never missed as many sunrises as I did when all I had to do was glance through 1805 wood-paned windows to an unadulterated view east, over the pond downhill from our house.
It was the same vista Jim took in for his last view this side of heaven, as a brilliant orange perigee moon rose at winter’s end and enveloped us all.
I could have seen the sun rise from the warmth of a shared bed. I would not have had to brace for even the cold of a foot on a wide-pine floor in a New England winter, or cast off quilts I had…
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