Eclipse

If it takes an eclipse...

...for faces to turn skyward and gasp in admiration and awe at the beauty Nature bestows, then so be it.

My eclipse happens daily. As the sun swallows the moon awaiting its moment to burst forth in wondrous glory, so too does the overlooked and misshapen chrysalis. Its resultant beauty far outlasting a mere few moments, for nature is my ever-present eclipse.

Each morning I gaze upon the high peaks of the Sangre de Cristos as she tightly embraces the sun's streaming rays finally relenting when the celestial body rises beyond her steadfast grasp. Hours later, that same glowing body assumes a new dance partner far to the west, teasingly caressing the delicate folds of the Sandia's warm granite face. I view the splendid dance routinely. She is my eclipse.

Yet, my gaze is not always heavenly. My eclipse sometime occurs with a downward glance. The desiccated formations of a recently vanished mud puddle are often beyond description and hidden to the untrained eye. Their magnificence only lasting until Mother earth is moistened once again from above. And then the toadstool becomes my eclipse. I am thankful so few recognize these events for it keeps the incessant crowd at bay.

I see my eclipse when I close my eyes. The mere thought of her complexity and beauty is more grand than any celestial offerings. Simply knowing that she is out there, always at my fingertips, not only provides comfort but hope as well, not needing to wait decades for another chance to see her.

My eclipse is truly amazing in her wondrous beauty and I am fortunate and ever so thankful I get to see her every single day.

While the masses wait for 2024, I think I shall go for a walk and experience my eclipse today.