Morning at sunrise. (A review)

As if it were opera, or a rosebowl game; movie or play -- 10 on a scale of 10 -- there'd be at end a sudden breathless pause, and then applause. Just as there might have been when it began. Full in its light where early colors pour through spaces left by clouds drawn back like curtains, it's there I greet this sunbright breezy morning, knowing it's more than orchestras and bands I might have danced to; than movies, games and plays. And that there stands an audience for blue and sunrise colors -- within it, sky-pointing palm trees clapping their hands.

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