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Morning's Blanket of Down
The coolness of night, left a dense cover of fog encasing the ridge. The velvety shadow of dawn, showcases the valley, under a plumed wall of fog to cast off the night, like a blanket of down.
Though the temperature gage of my charger shows no sign of warming, the light of day has the fog slowly expanding. Its dense features are changing with each moment of day. A Robin’s voice sends dancing vapors across the river that glimmer and shine as the morning sun skips across it. The swaying vapors move with the gentle breath of morning and the Robin’s waltz is an endless dance that travels with time.
The appearance over the ridgeline is no longer distillate, as it slowly begins to travel. The sun sets firmly above the horizon. Shining brightly on spring’s tender greeneries. While the sun makes its march ever higher, the fog seems to be falling, falling upward. Nets of fog reach to the heavens, till this ghostly apparition, fades to not. Leaving only the sun to rule the day, as now the grass glistens with dew, and night is forgotten once again.
