A Day In Waking and Walking

In the air is a quickening.
Not seen but felt with the mornings wakening.
Rising up from the realm of dreams, slowly, softly, a sigh, a murmur, to lie in drowsy slumber just waiting.
But the Sun is rising!
Calling you to waking and walking.
Flowers start to bloom in fields wild growing and forests with birds, all silence gone in a singing to greet the Suns rising.
And the mountains and the hills lay aside their whitened covering.
And in your walking a thoughtful wind blows, running gentle fingers through your dew-kissed hair.
A pulse is fast increasing.
All begins to hum with the busy-ness of living.
Joy is fast arising with the high noon Sun and the children from the morning begin to laugh and run and play and scream!
As down a forest path you are walking.
Past a brook that’s gently bubbling dancing tumbling silver sparkles through the air.
And in among the sighing boughs in dappled lights still dawning the chorus of the birds sings and cheers!
Whilst from the blue sky shining the Sun is downward reaching running gentle fingers through your gold-kissed hair.
The dusk-light is now coming.
Night falls and stillness is descending.
The birds fall quiet and the wind is left lamenting, sighing, moaning through the forest as it trembles past the branches setting gleeful shadows dancing across the surface of the waters.
Molten silver flowing, reflecting all the light of a perfectly full moon hanging high in the sky.
And curious it steals in through your window late at night, to stand and watch you sleeping as it bathes you in white light.
Then reaching forth it whispers sweet dreams in your ear, running gentle fingers through your pillow-kissed hair.