…of the September sun, that is.
We have been blessed with absolutely beautiful here in West Georgia for the past few days, even though Irma slammed our neighbors south of us.
The angle of the sun shifted…
…making the prisms dance wildly.
Temperatures dropped and the fish danced for joy.
On Sunday, the western sky had that early autumn tint to it.
But in the east the clouds were already gathering.
It was a good 24 hours before a tropical storm — still churning in the Gulf as a Hurricane Irma — was due to come to town.
And if I didn’t know better, I’d assume the seasonal transition from summer to fall was responsible for this two-tone sky.
The sunset was spectacular — debunking the adage, “Red sky at night — sailor’s delight.”
Because I knew what was coming tomorrow.
And now, she’s hollering from south of the Fall Line, saying, “I’m on my way.”
Then…suddenly…in the midst of all this weather, I realized the date.
September 11.
As I watch the rain and wind roll over the mountain,
I pray the slant of a September sun — when he returns — reminds us what makes life worth living.
And that he will reveal not only the face of a new day, but also the truth behind the clouds.
