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.