Morning is broken, like the first morning,
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird...
Cat Stevens recorded this classic song while I was in High School, and we loved it so much we sang it at our wedding... those were hippie days I guess. But I still think of that song everytime I come upon a morning symphony like this.
Praise for the singing, Praise for the morning,
God's recreation of the new day.
Cat Stevens completely missed the true Glory of the moment and exchanged it for a lie, but the song will always spring from my mind. As is often true about great art, it is much bigger, much more important and significant than the maker. The best any of us can hope to be is temporary channels of God's Grace and perfection. When I took this shot, I was feeling that force channeling right into my camera...
A magical, spiritual, technological, artistic moment. Yes, my camera, next to my truck is a most prized possession, for what it captures, that is like found treasure to me.
Which by the way, my camera has disappeared forever. I was distracted. Left it laying in plain sight. And then it was gone. So you'll be seeing a lot of shots that are for me a retrospective of what a single little machine has shared with me, over the past months. These images are as precious as that silly hippie song of my youth, because they are, in the final analysis, a form of worship.
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