Morning Light


To juice up my blogging enthusiasm,
I've decided to use Susannah Conway's prompts
for August.

Today's prompt is "morning light."



These photos almost didn't happen. 
I had a bridge-view room in Hotel Rialto.
That morning, the changing blue light 
was peeking through the slats of the shutters,
whispering, "Come out. The world is quiet."
But my bed was cozy
and it was too early,
my mind chatter kept insisting.

So I thought I'd cheat.
I opened the shutters and leaned out
to grab some quick shots.

And then. . . 
the magic of the blue hour
seduced me.

I pulled on my jeans and shoes
and a T-shirt
and grabbed the camera
and ventured out.

I grabbed several pics of the bridge
in raw format - handheld. 
Several of the photos looked like pure darkness
until I edited in some light.

A few feet further away from the bridge
on the hotel side,
gondolas beckoned. 



They sat, tied up,
covered up, swaying gently.
One vaporetto passed.
One passenger got off.
Tourists still snoozed in their beds.

By then I was energized.
I jogged through narrow streets and passageways
to San Marco for some blue hour shots there,
hurrying so I wouldn't miss the early light.

I could only see three other people besides me
when I arrived, all with cameras.
Before I left, one well-dressed lady walked through,
on her way to work, I suspected.
She turned the corner where the Doge's Palace overlooks
the Canal and was gone.




On the way back to my Venetian abode,
the street lights began to go dark.
Shopkeepers were rolling up the metal doors
and washing the pavement outside.

A few more people,
on their way to work,
starting their day.

It felt like a holy moment.

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