A jet climbs the vault of the sky, streaming a hot pink contrail just above bright Venus at sunrise.
Bare trees silhouetted against deep pink clouds. The earth gracefully turns toward its guiding star.
Birds cleave the sky far below the air traffic—a cacophony of song not present even two days ago.
The airplane passes overhead and beyond, disappearing in the western sky leaving a pink track parallel to an aircraft that passed not long before.
The day has begun.
Shouldn't...but Do 
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