"A pleasure is not full grown until it is remembered" C.S. Lewis

Yesterday morning, I drove down May Street in hopes of catching the sunrise.  Bordered by horse farms, May Street is littered with red painted paddocks. Multicolored horses: browns, golds, whites, and blacks roam among the many fenced sections. There are huge sycamore trees everywhere. Pulling off the road, I quietly open the car door.  The air is heavy. Dew sparkles off the grass. A soft fog rolls across the land and embraces the beams of light that dance between the clouds. Rays of yellow paint the morning sky, while pink and orange hues tie-dye the horizon.  I recall my Mother's words, "Red sky at night sailors delight: Red sky at morning, sailors warning," and I wonder, is it going to rain?

The only movement is that of a crow flying by while being chased by starlings. "Dumb crow," I think.  "Serves you right for getting too close to their nest."  Nearby, lay a mother and her foal.  Both rest side-by-side, their legs curled beneath.  Gently, the mother tilts her head and brushes her nose against her child's as if to say, "Mommy loves you, don't forget." Touched by the exchange, I raise my camera in hopes of getting it on film but change my mind.  Moments like these are best left private.