The Color of a Clear Day

In the beginning there was a sunrise. And the clouds came and blocked the sun and created rays of light that beamed down upon the earth and the water. And the waves crashed and the foam caught the glow, reflecting it in iridescent glimmers of salt and sea. And the photographer took the picture. And the sun rose higher in the sky, darting in and out behind the fast moving clouds, casting warmth and then shadow, warmth and then shadow. And the first lighthouse towered overhead. And the photographer waited, anticipating the light. And the photographer took the picture.

But then the photographer looked, beyond the horizon of the first lighthouse, and saw a second, miles off, waves crashing around the base. And the photographer moved on, as the sun moved higher in the sky. And upon that barren shore the photographer stood and stared upon the second lighthouse, adrift seemingly in the middle of the sea, waves of water crashing upon it. And the pelicans soared in the clear blue sky. And the light moved in and out of the clouds, casting warmth and then shadow, warmth and then shadow. And so the light changed, and so the day changed, and so the photographer captured the light.

The drive back was filled with more unique opportunities. And so the photographer stopped for those as well. And then the clouds rolled in and the rain came. And kept on coming. And the photographer sat with a cup of tea, reviewing the photos, and saw that they were good.