Aurora was the Roman goddess of the dawn. In the mythic world consumed by wine and turmoil, she was a supporting character. Every morning she lifted her chariot out of the ocean and brought golden light. She also enjoyed sprinkling dew on on green grass.
She fell in love with a Trojan whom was renowned for his song and love of wine. She pursued him, and in the end won his heart. She was not a fool. Aurora pleaded with Zeus to give her love immortality, and Zeus bestowed it in the way that gods sometimes do- exactly.
Days and years past and Aurora realized her mistake. Her love was immortal, but he did not have eternal youth. He aged and withered with each passing sunrise. In a final act of love, Aurora turned her love into a grasshopper, to live forever in the dewy morning fields of Rome.
Shakespeare and Tennyson both used her as a muse to describe longing and beauty. Her name is given to the magical lights that dance in the Northern night sky. For a supporting character, she sure did make an impression.
Aurora was also the name of the aircraft my father flew when I was a boy. It often took him away, and I always yearned to have him come home. Walking through dewy summer fields past barbed wire, I used to climb maple trees and listen for the Aurora's engines.
Auroras look for things that are hidden, and I do that too now. Sometimes the things we look for don't want to be found, and sometimes they do. I will never be mentioned in the same breath as Shakespeare or Tennyson. They were terrible pilots, but I too have discovered Aurora as a muse.
To me Aurora has become the word to describe the longing for orange light in the morning.