"It's a New Day" (Image & Text Copyright Wylddane Productions, LLC)
These late October mornings arrive cloaked in darkness. When I wake, it is still night outside the windows of the wee cottage. My companions at this hour are the flickering flames in the fireplace, the soft sigh of Borodin’s String Quartet No. 2: Nocturne in D, and the warmth of coffee—the “nectar of the gods”—held close in my hands. Each sip is a benediction, each note of music a quiet thread binding me to the unfolding day.
And then, slowly, the waiting is answered. The first light steals across the horizon. What moments ago was shadowed and muted is suddenly bathed in gold, as though the sun itself had spilled a chalice of molten light upon the world. This morning’s sunrise, fiery and bold, turns the ordinary into the extraordinary.
In my imagination, I follow the sun’s first rays as they chase through the autumn forest. The deer pause mid-step, their breath silver in the air, eyes glinting with reflected fire. The bear, heavy with sleep, lingers a moment longer to gaze upon the spectacle. The squirrels gather on high branches, tails curled like banners, bearing silent witness. It is as if all creation halts for an instant to hear the ancient whispers carried on the dawn.
The sun is no mere star—it is an elder spirit, an oracle, pouring out secrets to any who will pause to listen. Its warmth is a hymn of resilience, its brilliance a reminder of infinite potential. Like a mighty orchestra, it crescendos into the morning sky, its notes carried not on strings or horns but on light itself.
With this melody in my heart, I step into the new day. The hours before me are unwritten pages. Where will they lead? What songs will be sung, what stories told, what small miracles revealed? Perhaps the only word needed to begin the tale is the simplest of all—peace.
“The sun, the bright sun, that brings back, not light alone, but new life, and hope, and freshness to man.” ~Charles Dickens
~Wylddane
And then, slowly, the waiting is answered. The first light steals across the horizon. What moments ago was shadowed and muted is suddenly bathed in gold, as though the sun itself had spilled a chalice of molten light upon the world. This morning’s sunrise, fiery and bold, turns the ordinary into the extraordinary.
In my imagination, I follow the sun’s first rays as they chase through the autumn forest. The deer pause mid-step, their breath silver in the air, eyes glinting with reflected fire. The bear, heavy with sleep, lingers a moment longer to gaze upon the spectacle. The squirrels gather on high branches, tails curled like banners, bearing silent witness. It is as if all creation halts for an instant to hear the ancient whispers carried on the dawn.
The sun is no mere star—it is an elder spirit, an oracle, pouring out secrets to any who will pause to listen. Its warmth is a hymn of resilience, its brilliance a reminder of infinite potential. Like a mighty orchestra, it crescendos into the morning sky, its notes carried not on strings or horns but on light itself.
With this melody in my heart, I step into the new day. The hours before me are unwritten pages. Where will they lead? What songs will be sung, what stories told, what small miracles revealed? Perhaps the only word needed to begin the tale is the simplest of all—peace.
“The sun, the bright sun, that brings back, not light alone, but new life, and hope, and freshness to man.” ~Charles Dickens
~Wylddane
RSS Feed