Sun Shed Tear

Is it a dance? Or a triple scoop ice cream cone top melting down?

I watched a sunrise 20 years ago. I drove out down the back roads of Henniker towards Hillsborough and parked in front of a field. There was no inebriation but the morning.

I cried.

No, I wept.

Crying is for heartbreak.

Weeping knows the heart by what fills it up.

Crying knows the heart by what shatters it.

I wept.

With each inch of light over the tree line, I’d weep again.

There were no thoughts in the tears, only a sorrow in the knowledge that that particular sunrise would pass. And a prayer that maybe if I was lucky that day, that particular sunrise would notice that particular young man, and shed a tear of light, the way a creamsicle crayon melts on a sidewalk.