Mornings by the marsh
Light grows slowly in the distance separating the sky from the trees. Splashes of light reveal newly mowed pastures while dew on hay bales glisten and sparkle. The sun, now orange, and distinct from the pastel colored skies, continues its ascent winking and peaking through a stand of tall oaks.
Birds soar, dive and sing over a cattail-filled marsh as the sun continues to rise, their collective chorale reaching a crescendo as the sunlight swoops down and sets the marsh agleam. In that moment the frogs cease their croaking in appreciation; rabbits pause from their breakfast clover.
As the mini-vista reveals its oft overlooked beauty, the smoke from the grill chases sleep from eyes. The coffee is robust with a long rich finish; scrapple sizzles in bacon fat on a cast iron skillet; two eggs kiss the griddle with pops and clicks; grits await the plate and apple butter as morning by the marsh gives way to the day.
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Beautifully poetic description. Much impressed. You have wonderful writing skills – as I have asked often – where’s the book?