This Morning

I saw a man walking in the cold.
Hood up. Pace brisk. Hands gloved.
Behind him, the sun was rising.
Yellow sky warmed orange and red.
I wanted to cry out
Turn around!
Unglove your hands.
Dehood your head.
Look.
The light that has already come.
Beauty that is, arriving across
distance we cannot fathom.
And yet you walk on.