Morning comes
to these mountains before me.
Not in a rush
but gently and silently.
It is a cloud-covered morning
bathed in a myriad of blues.
It is hard to tell
where the mountains end
and the heavens begin.
There is little sound
save for a breeze
rustling through the trees,
and a mourning dove
somewhere in the distance.
As time slowly moves on
there seems to be little change –
as though time itself
was standing still.
But at some point
this peaceful calm will be broken.
The sun will come alive
and the day will awaken.
to these mountains before me.
Not in a rush
but gently and silently.
It is a cloud-covered morning
bathed in a myriad of blues.
It is hard to tell
where the mountains end
and the heavens begin.
There is little sound
save for a breeze
rustling through the trees,
and a mourning dove
somewhere in the distance.
As time slowly moves on
there seems to be little change –
as though time itself
was standing still.
But at some point
this peaceful calm will be broken.
The sun will come alive
and the day will awaken.
— Dan Hardison
Photo by Dan Hardison
Blue Ridge Mountains, Western North Carolina
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