6:19 AM Easter morning-- Seen through apple tree branches, the sunrise is caught just breaking over the tree line.
from: Sunrise on the Hills
I stood upon the hills, when heaven's wide arch
Was glorious with the sun's returning march,
And woods were brightened, and soft gales
Went forth to kiss the sun-clad vales.
The clouds were far beneath me; bathed in light,
They gathered mid-way round the wooded height,
And, in their fading glory, shone
Like hosts in battle overthrown.
By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Happy National Poetry Month!