by Jason A. Cox
The day is new. A flaming spark ignites the horizon. It arcs across the sky and warms the earth beneath. The oceans of wind crash upon the trees and grass, dancing wildly in the summer’s song. Billows of white punctuate the clear blue canopy and birds surf the invisible streams of life. Joy dances across the table, feasting upon flowers and fields of green. Onward the blaze marches until its apex erases the shadows below and floods the palace with its glory. Ebbing and flowing the wind and light shimmer, washing and painting all who live below. The day is full and the chime has come. The conductor faces the heavens and takes a bow. Slowly the shadows grow and paint the floor with cool whispers of melancholy. Deeper now the notes begin to ring as the day pulls its dark navy sheet across the sky. Memories glisten their burning specs of light in the nocturnal blanket above. Rays of the dying day stretch the shadows to their length. They gently caress the mountains and the fields. The cool tide of night rises and crashes it soft glow upon the sleepy inhabitants below. The end has come. The last glimmer bids the watcher adieu with a farewell kiss and gently folds its arms in rest.