The cool crisp air catches your breath. The tiny droplets of dew decorate the sharp green blades of grass. You can hear a woodpecker making its new home, and blue jays sing their cheerful song. The clouds roll slowly in the sky as if waving to say hello. They let in shafts of sunlight, giving you a glimpse of what lies beyond them. Everyone is slowly rubbing the sleep from their eyes as the sun finally bursts through the blockade of the clouds. There’s something magical about this, about… morning.
The Morning Sun
April 30, 2009