Clouds below embrace dawn in timeless rhythm. Saturday. Sleep shackles worn heavy. The city lies mostly unaware of the encompassing mantle of majesty.
The palette’s hues are diverse, full-spectrum. Each belongs, connects, integrates into the glorious gestalt, for what would the one be without the others?
By the same paradoxical sweep, beauty such as this morning can only be seen by some in black and white, as a conundrum set upon them, a choice between dark and light.
I sit and wonder if this too shall pass, lost like some prehensile tail, to the beat of the motion of continents.
(100 words) Picture is copyright by Pacheco.