Beauty in the morning

Sometimes, in the quiet of the early morning, I lie in bed just as the sun creeps through the window and think about all the beauty in this world.

It's in the big, things, sure. Like those beautiful blue skies, so perfect that even the clouds don't interrupt them. It's in the pink of twilight. It's in the stillness of early morning snow.

But it's in the little things, too. The lopsided smile of a newborn baby. The crack of the bat during a late afternoon game. The solitary rose petal that fell to the ground.

The prose of Hemingway, when he talks about his Catherine. The timbre in George Jones' voice on "He Stopped Loving Her Today." Anytime John Duffey hits a high note.

Grace Kelly, in "Rear Window" and everything else. The fullback pass Von Reeves threw in the 1990 Florida game. Two words: Sid's slide.

Anything from Pete Hamill's pen. Dain Jacob Shelton, when he gives you that look that only children can. Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata." A favorite song by Juice Newton. "Smoke Gets In Your Eyes."

Big, beautiful brown eyes. Blue eyes crying in the rain. "Don't it Make your Brown Eyes Blue?"

A forgotten smile by a woman who passed like a ship in the night. Sunsets on Norris Lake. Friday afternoons, pretty much any week. The Chevrolet Ron Howard drives in "American Graffiti."

Conversation around the fishing hole. Late night get togethers. Early morning sleep-ins.

Raindrops on a tin roof. Falling in love. Coming home.

OK, that's enough. Time to get up and start the day.