There’s just something about each day’s pre-dawn stillness that I love so very much. I don’t know if it’s the cool, crisp air, the pastel shades of pink and blue that suffuse the heavens, or the sleepy feeling of peaceful bliss—as the earth and its many inhabitants stretch and slowly stir themselves awake.
I enjoy the subtle clarity of sounds as they carry through the still air—a dog’s sharp bark, the soft whir of a bird on the wing, or the rustle of leaves stirred by a passing breeze. Perhaps it’s the freshness of the new day, ripe with possibilities and beckoning with all the juicy promise of a sweet, summer peach waiting to be plucked and enjoyed. Or is it because it’s the dawn of new Light—where all that’s old, past, and dark may be accepted, appreciated, and allowed to fade away?
It’s all these things, of course—and so much more. It’s the predawn rise of steam from a lake, the luxurious stretch of a flower reaching out to greet the sun’s first kiss, and the quite sense of release one feels as the light of the last star winks slowly out.
I love the dawn, for it’s a magical time of creation—when everyone and everything may begin anew.
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