Earth's version of the Pearly Gates. A shimmering dawn gleam in a bay at Plockton, Wester Ross, Scotland.
Poem.
The mercury greys, the tree-lined ebony silhouettes, deep indigo and silver-coated marbling, gleaming, beaming off the cloud-reflected bay-
Dazzles and spell-binds.
That precious God-given ambience of early dawn blinds us but etches blurred images of heavenly proportions to our senses.
The mesmerising light, the near-silent water’s edge only broken by the lilting call of the oyster-catcher or the muffled comments of stirring sailors aboard their dreamy yachts.
These familiar sounds, the salt-laden odours of a near-calm bay and the silent, gentle absorption of the sun’s rays rouses and energises a myriad of life-forms to a glorious new day.
To witness this scene is pure bliss.
To hear, feel and sense it, is almost indescribable.
Earth's version of the Pearly Gates. A shimmering dawn gleam in a bay at Plockton, Wester Ross, Scotland.
Poem.
The mercury greys, the tree-lined ebony silhouettes, deep indigo and silver-coated marbling, gleaming, beaming off the cloud-reflected bay-
Dazzles and spell-binds.
That precious God-given ambience of early dawn blinds us but etches blurred images of heavenly proportions to our senses.
The mesmerising light, the near-silent water’s edge only broken by the lilting call of the oyster-catcher or the muffled comments of stirring sailors aboard their dreamy yachts.
These familiar sounds, the salt-laden odours of a near-calm bay and the silent, gentle absorption of the sun’s rays rouses and energises a myriad of life-forms to a glorious new day.
To witness this scene is pure bliss.
To hear, feel and sense it, is almost indescribable.