
The moon fades into an echo of herself over the forest as dawn flickers on the horizon. Silver is coming to its end, gold is waiting behind closed eyelids. Almost unnocticed, the sky dyes a gradient from night in the west to a spark of day in the east. With just that minimal light, Sun gathers her beams, tousled from the night, and prepares her colours to bring life and joy to the earth. "Good morning", she whispers to Aspen, Birch and Baby Ash, while softly flicking their leaves. They reply, each with their own ripples.
As if sticking her toe out of the bed for a sense of the day, Sun casts a first tentative ray onto the land, warming it up gently to the dance of her paintbrush.
A light lands on the tree tops and drapes muffled contours onto the ground behind them. Sun pauses, charging her powers while watching the response from the lingering land; a sway in the grass, a rustle in the foliage. Moments later, Sun explodes her most potent colours onto the dew covered forest, and dresses the stems in light and shadow. Gilded boughs salute the sun in the east, silhouettes of trees extend long on the ground on the western side. Sunrays warm the stems, encouraging them to stretch to greet the sky. Freshly made light tiptoes through the branches and into the leaves, strengthening every vein. Leaves vibrate in the first morning wind, taking in their fill of the most nourishing meal of the day.
There is a shift in the air as the morning seamlessly turns into day. The sun sharpens and shortens the shadows, colours soften. Deep in the forest, Creek takes a nap, trees hunker down under the midday sun. All that is heard across the landscape is the mumbling sound of ruminating sheep in their huddle underneath Mother Oak.
Sun follows her path to the west, painting the sky with a new palette. At the final bend of her curve she spills out the last of her collected colours while birds lullaby her to rest.
As Sun sinks into her horizon bed, she lets out one golden ray into the glade before she offers her last flickering spark to the moon and sinks, golden red, into the sea.
The night sky lights in silver while Moon and the stars paint their own shades across the settling forest. The dance of light and shadow goes on through day and night. One cannot thrive without the other – the dark giving refuge in the day, light offering navigation in the dark. Owl, Bat and Badger start the night shift, attentive to the sounds of slumber. That, however, is another dance.
How do you dance your day?
I absorb your portrayal of your observations with relish. There is anticipation on notification, pleasure and wonder in reading, making head and heart pictures, and satisfaction afterwards which stays glowing within me for a long time.🧡
Beautiful piece Josefin - I imagine you writing with a paintbrush, not a pen 😊