dawn sunrise over the wicklow mountains : s. mcdermott : 17.03.03
It was sunrise. Harmonies of dreams flowed from the
awakening birds as the sun spilt over the horizon, extending its greetings
to the wondorous and most unnatural beauty of what we call nature. The
stream's jewellery sparkled, gliding effortlessly over the shimmering
silt, which seemed to wink back in approval to the sun for its warm welcome.
The grumpy bark of the oak lost its frown; its plumage stretching out,
awakened from its slumber. The day had begun its journey again, the sun
flowing into her engine.
© 2003 John Costello
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