Morning

It was a morning heartbreaking in its beauty. Clouds had been spread generously, like butter, across the sky. Gentle light showed through them and melted over the dewy fields.

Gardens trembled in anticipation as the cool breeze came to meet them; it swept back leaves and ruffled petals, ever so lightly. The tall, woody zinnias swayed to the zephyr's gentle touch. Tiny flowers with tissue-petals drank in the cloudy light while succulent herbs stood patient and erect. Damp soil called to graceful tree, and the trees whispered secrets to the wind. It was still early and the insects of the night continued to sing in defiance of the sun. Birds in the treetops began to awake, however, and a rooster trumpeted his ultimatum to the dawn.

Another morning had begun.