In the desert, it isn’t sounds that you awake to like it is back east.
In the forest, the birds are your alarm, chirping and twittering increasingly until the rest of us creatures stretch, bleary-eyed, but upright. In the city, it is others that wake you, shuffling and moving, the slow close of early morning car doors, the first rumble of an engine come to life, the beeps and honks of vehicular communication.
No, in the desert, the sounds and movings come after . . . It is light that first animates.
Not until the warm, golden glow crests the tops of hills and horizons do ants move under their pebbled domes or birds sing morning songs of just a few notes.
Not until yellow arms grow, expand, and reach out to you through cracks in curtains and windows do puppies rise and whimper to go outside and greet them.
A day once dawned, and it was beautiful.
A day once dawned from the ground.
Then the night she fell –
And the air was beautiful.
The night she fell all around.
So look see the days,
The endless coloured ways,
And go play the game that you learned
From the morning.
And now we rise –
And we are everywhere –
And now we rise from the ground.
And see, she flies –
And she is everywhere –
See she flies all around
So look see the sights –
The endless summer nights –
And go play the game that you learned
From the morning.
– Nick Drake, From the Morning
Be well today.
– SAWK