Morning

Early. Much too early. The sun hasn't even woke up yet.
Pull the covers up, over my head.
Cold. That's new. I don't have to go far to see my breath float on the air.
Still, I'll just pull the covers up over my head.
Who? Pulls the sun up from sleep to swap with the moon?
And who captures the cool air in winter, and tames it to His will?
Who grasps warm summer breeze and cages it till Spring?
Strange. How somethings are so common. Even miracles.
Light. Oh, the sun! Come cover me with warm, with light.
It's pulling up, over my head. I get out of bed.

"... so that from the rising of the sun to the place of its setting men may know there is none besides me. I am the LORD, and there is no other." Isaiah 45:6