non-figurative sunrise

As I arrived on campus:
this morning the sun rose,
shining a mango red light
through the trees,
reflected on the wet sidewalk.

My first impulse:
to wish that I were a poet.
My second:
to turn the spectacular sight into
a metaphor for something.

I stopped myself:
Let it be beautiful. 
Be grateful.
Give thanks.
Beauty at the beginning.
That is enough.