The early morning is the dominion of the birds, for they in bright feathered plume are so very in love with the sunrise.
The new day, the new sky, the water and the land - ever the same and ever evolving - the embodiment of the moment and the eternal entwined.
The early morning comes as an invitation to become the agents of a new dreamland reality - one we can make each day with careful loving actions.
In the early morning the hues of the world bloom anew is if each were a tiny flower reborn.
There is an awakening magic each day in the early morning, a sense of an old earth-spirit rekindled that seeks to knit together all that is good.
I awake to the steady patter of rain upon my window, droplets yet to scatter the nascent rays of rising sun. The sound brings a calmness to mind, a soothing melody, a natural lullaby. With eyes at rest I feel my centre, live happily within myself for these blessed moments of solitude. I drift on calm seas, aimless as a child on summer vacation, paddling, at ease with the fluidity of time. Soon I return to the moment, the song of the rain becomes as fusion, birds bringing sweet high notes. In my mind's eye I am with them, singing upon the roof tops, filling my lungs with fresh air, watching the world come into focus.
The lights of my bicycle shine as smudged stars, the wintry mist cold upon my skin. As the journey passes, sunlight rouses more colours from their sleepy monochrome and, though the road still has the black look of night, the sky is already more bluish than charcoal. Under the fumes of the morning traffic a tincture of the dawn lingers, like dew upon leaves, a gift of freshness bequeathed anew each day.
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