Above, a washed out sky, nothing remarkable. In the bland gray stillness of the morning the gradual sunrise is only noted by the slowly growing ability to see what was hidden in darkness. There is no burst of orange today peeking over the treetops or brilliant clouds announcing the sun. It's a quiet morning, not a movement in the trees. Suddenly the birds are racing across the sky, tens of them at a time, all speeding in the same direction. What do they see? What do they know?
It's a morning much like I imagine the first Easter:  Nothing remarkable; calm, trauma passing, stillness notable. Then, Mary and her companions walk up to the tomb to see the stone moved. Shock, fear, worry and confusion race through them. Something has happened. A tiny hope flashes in Mary's heart and then is pushed away by reason. Until...