Sunday Walk in Words: December 15, 2013

It’s too early to actually go for a walk just now.  The sun won’t be giving any of its light for at least another two hours.

I stand on my loggia and look at the mountains towards the west.  The moon is setting towards the north-west and there are three beautifully elongated clouds that are outlined by her light just over the mountain tops.  Three stars shine together a little further south…making a line of light, like someone popped the stars there together to string them up with the others and then got tired of the exercise.  Still further south, there’s a twinkling red-white star.  I thought it was an airplane at first, but it doesn’t move at all!

The tendrils of the moon light just over the mountains give me such a sense of serenity.  If I were an augur of old, looking at the sky and the play of clouds, stars and light just over the mountain tops, which are white with snow now, I’d have to believe that something special is about to happen today.

Silence is deep this morning.  In the distance, I can see the city street lights and an occasional car, but no sound can be heard, except my blood flowing past my ear drums!  No dogs, birds or cars, nothing.  The lights down there are bright gold. Some twinkle.  Our imitation of the stars, closer and so much less mysterious.

It’s cold this morning, but warmer than it should be.  Still, I think it’s time to go for some hot coffee, time to write and read in the quiet of pre-dawn.

Have a great Sunday.

 

DP Weekly Writing Challenge: Snapshots – Spring Morning

Using words only, take a snapshot of the experience. We’re looking forward to reading your imaginative scenes, sans photographs!

——————————————————————————-

Sketch

Spring Morning

First rays of sun, the sky, pink and light blue against the green and brown of the mountain.
In the distance, the lake sparkles with a golden light.  The world seems to me, a fairly land of light and sound.

There!  The birds have begun to sing their goodmorning songs.  They chatter as they fly to and fro in their early morning games.  On the antenna, the sparrows have roosted.  They look like a bunch of gossips exchanging the tales of their night adventures.  I wonder, do sparrows dream?

In the distance the factory, that never closes, hums.  A car passes and then a motorcycle close behind it.  Where can they be going at dawn.

I wonder, who else is up at this hour, besides me of course.

The coffee pot bubbles and splutters.  The smell of coffee fills the room, it calls me. The air, yes, the air on my terrace is crisp and cold.  The wind is still though.  Shivering, I close the terrace door and go to drink my coffee.

Continue reading