Awake

Only the country-liver can fully feel it -- this dying of night with the birth of day -- this supreme moment when the mists and dimness and low voices of the one exhale into the melody and brightness of the other. It is a daily miracle -- this sudden transition from gray to rosy light -- this unrolling of the landscape--this assumption, in delicious crescendo, of sound -- this quickening of the day's life over the sleep of night -- this flying of darkness, as of a ghost pursued, before the flooding of light -- this oldest of all stories again told. Awake, for the day has dawned.

 

-- Ellen Chapman (Hobbs) Rollins

 

 

Done