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Sunrise

The Story of a Photograph

By Elizabeth LouPublished 6 years ago 2 min read
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Sunrise 

Swaying in the cool morning breeze, a single tree stands. The tips of its tallest leaves kiss the dimmed blue sky, and the depths of its roots are enclosed by the thick black soil that fills the area. Sprouting from the darkest of that dense ground, a harvest of bright green wild-grass dances to the sound of the wind. The grass, which in itself is detained by a thick forest, is also the protector of its own inmate; the water. Held together on all sides by the grass, dirt, and trees, it may be imprisoned but that water is free. It is free to its depths and it is free to its heights. Free to listen, free to reflect. As the crimson edges of the horizon stain the rich blue of the sky, the free water mirrors it all. Showing both the light and the dark, the water reflects not only the beauty, but the shadows that also arise with the sun.

Rising from that water like smoke, its mist fills the air and sky. As it sulks on the water the mist begins to change. It goes from being dull and thick to suddenly dancing with splashes of light! Beams of golden orange finally break through the trees, and out onto the lake, illuminating both land and sea in all directions. The world seems to pause, the waters go still, the birds go quiet. And they all watch and wait. They wait for that first daybreak. They wait for that first light. For that first breath; that first hope. They wait.

What first was just a glimpse has turned into a great reveal as the golden sun makes its grand entry into the day. The birds sing, the world wakes up! All around the scurry of animals getting ready for the day fills the atmosphere. A deer stumbles through the woods; an egret settles on the water. And as all of God’s creatures are finally awake and working together to form the beautiful masterpiece that we call day, a hum falls from the sky. Drowning out the sounds of nature, and casting a shadow on all that is beautiful, flies a dusty, metal plane. Streaking the sky with a trail of white, it leaves its mark on the purity of the sky. And past the lake and the grass and the trees, the drone of cars and trucks and people floods over the song that the sun brought. And the day has begun.

nature poetry
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