It was sunrise. You couldn't see the sun yet, it was still below the horizon, but the daylight that is the sun's entourage was bright yellow and orange. It reached out in a sunburst pattern, fingers of yellow-orange daylight reaching into the dark blue purple of the night. The sight was truly magnificent. I only remember seeing that sunburst effect in drawings or paintings, or other works of art. I'm sure I've seen it in reality a thousand times, but none of those have ever registered in my memory. Either I wasn't paying attention, or they simply weren't that spectacular. Probably a combination of both. This sunrise though, was awe inspiring. I fully regret now, not pulling off to the side of the road and taking a few moments to snap a couple of pictures. Though I'm pretty certain the pictures would not have been as inspiring. Like pictures of the Grand Canyon. There's no way a picture can match the real thing. No way it can make you feel the way being there and witnessing it makes you feel.
The vibrant yellow-orange of the day reached out fingers of light into the dark blue purple of the night. The demarcations between day and night were well defined, almost sharp. Shafts of night narrowed into dagger like points between the widening fingers of daylight. It didn't last long as I rode the highway through Lawrence, by the time I reached the Eudora exit, the scene has muted. The light and dark mixed and the lines blurred until there was a sort of day-horizon, with a pale blue-purple curtain of night slowly dissipating as the pale yellow of the day made progress, winning the battle - as it does every day. The sun finally made it's appearance. Like some giant red general or king riding high on his stallion behind the front lines into battle. Supervising as the troops of daylight vanquished the dark soldiers of nighttime.
It was a glorious sight.
