December Morning

The sky to the east and south
is a brilliant red,
reflecting even to the west
well beyond my house.

My dog looks up at the sky
and seems to know
she's seeing something unusual.
She pushes south
instead of the usual east.

People on their way to work
get out of cars, 
lock doors, and then proceed.

Look up! I shout.
They look at me only briefly
and then proceed,
clearly thinking I’m one of the crazies.

Then the red is gone, 
wiped out by sun
that now has cleared the horizon.

We two walk on,
her concentration on trails
left of rabbits,
mine on the phrase:  "Red sky at morning, take warning."
It was something my father
used to say.

But perhaps I'm wrong.
Sunrise any morning is beautiful, 
never does not last long. 

Perhaps the warning is not to miss it.