Hush. Night fades to silver, holding its breath, waiting, waiting. Pink rises from the mountaintops, trailing gold from its toes, lighter, lighter. You hear it in your soul, feel it, see it, the rising chorus, the symbol crash, the sun breaking, glorious, as dawn arrives triumphant. Sing.
Most of my days, I rise before dawn. It’s a magical time. Still. Quiet … a few bird twitters. I am awake, yet not. If possible, I would spend the first few hours of my day silent. It seems appropriate. Listen before I speak.
Summer sunrises are my favorite. A pastel wash over dewy grass. A cool appetizer before a sizzling day. A promise. For even when you despair of life, dawn offers you the possibility that today will be different. Today will be a new beginning.
Today.
This day.
Take it and fly.
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Linda Cassidy Lewis 
I know what you mean. When I used to hunt it was much more about being in the woods and hearing and seeing the morning come alive.
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Thanks for visiting my blog and leaving a comment, Duke.
I wouldn’t want to hunt, but I’d love to be in the woods, as you said, “hearing and seeing the morning come alive.”
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Beautiful. You describe why I write before sunrise. Night fading … silence.
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Thank you, Cathryn. It’s nice to know you appreciate that quiet time too. 🙂
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lovely.
*happy sigh*
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Thank you kindly, Karen. 🙂
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The were another reason for me to go hunting. Like trying to get the approval of my dad. Which didn’t work!
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I’m reading this at night, close to 10, when the children are sleeping and the baby finally conked out, and the husband is outside, and all is still…..and think how much this applies at this time of day for me when I will be up throughout the night with the baby nursing. It catches the joy of it for me. Amazing how writing can have so many meanings.
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Yes, Jennifer, I think this peaceful stillness, is the same no matter when, or where, you find it. A little treasure.
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