Dawn Scene

The maid had just brought me some hot chocolate and opened up the thick curtains, and the windows behind it. I got out of the warm bed and I am heading outside to witness the scenic painting that is the dawn of a brand new day.



I step outside and take a deep, refreshing breath and scan for a perfect place to seat myself and behold the spectacular view.



As I am sitting here upon the cold stones of the front yard patio, I see the sun’s rays majestically filtering through the mountain necks and falling down onto the baron’s lands, creating a breath-taking panorama of blue sky behind a gloss of navy mountain and green vineyards and pastures. The evening star is lonesomely hanging in the morning sky, like a twinkling coin on the bottom of a wishing-pond. But, as the darkness of the night is slowly but surely being dissolved by the ever fierce daylight, its brilliance shall soon be overshadowed by the stars in the mountain streams.



Here and there and everywhere is a black tree, silhouetted by the bright morning sun, giving a standing ovation to the artistic beauty of the dawn. Treetops waltz in the cold breath of wind.



As my thoughts and imagination drift into this faraway land that lies right before me, I am suddenly brought back to reality by the fresh smell of hot farm-milk coming from the farmhouse, but my attention nearly as suddenly diverts to the scent of the rose grapes, carried uphill by a calm breeze from down yonder.



Right next to me, a yellow oakleaf is touching down onto the cold soil and a soft dewdrop rolls down a green ginkgoleaf and plops into the small pond by the cycads and the ferns.



A subtle crackle of the melting morning frost gives dimension to the silence. A bird flaps its wings in the distance.



A new dawn has broken.