The Performance

            It was cold and dark. The stars were gone, and even with the sharpest knife you could not cut through the black. We sat on the ruins of the once powerful, but fallen, Napoleon, waiting. We wait for her, patiently, and with a great sense of anticipation. While she is still a long way off, we can see her beauty. She dances towards us, slow, steady, painting the walls as she goes. Oranges, reds, pinks, and the palest blues are the colors she chose, bringing to life everything she touches. She does not come to us alone, bringing with her sounds and smells. The rooster begins its crowing when she gives him her subtle signal, the birds sing as she peeks into their nests. The sight and sound of a fish jumping merrily to greet her are brought to us on a cool breeze. My heart begins to race, and I refuse to blink. She’s so near, closing in on us and I dare not miss the finale. I breathe in, drawing her into every fiber of my being. Out, and yet she stays with me. So close now, I am blinded by her radiance and elegance. She looks me straight in the eyes, lifts her brush, and begins to paint my face. Warmth and color wash over me; she steps back and twirls away. With a running start she goes for the grand finale, leaping off the edge of the fort. She does not fall. She does not fail. Stuck there in the sky she has finished her morning ritual. My heart beat slows as I applaud her magnificent performance. As we walk back to town I can’t help but feel that it was a special show just for me; a sunrise all my own.~ Anna