Morning brings its ambience, slowly creeping in with sunlit smiles on lawns and bushes. Trees whose leaves had held the light in a million green cups all summer must let it sift through branches that hid themselves in dull grey background for the time and space of season. Glorious now in greyness that becomes the center stage, playing with the light to make it fall in moving patterns on their bodies.
"For every thing, there is a season."
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
The picture outside my window is just as beautiful as your words are. The world was surprisingly calm just an hour ago.