Dawn Rhythms

Tick. Tick. Tick.  I open my eyes at 7:30. From my pillow I see two trees, mountains beyond. The once stately trees have mostly dead branches now but birds seem to love the branches still alive with leaves silhouetted against pale gray sky. So I watch the birds in silence as they flit and flutter. I recognize the shapes of a cardinal couple and a jay. Others I do not know. I get up to open the window. I want to hear their songs. Their chirps and caws chorus with the clock’s ticks, whooss of car tires, dog yips, and voices from houses. Sound carries in a valley.

Standing by the window now, I see “my” horse Pearl grazing below on frosty grass. Behind Pearl’s lea, white frosted rooftops zig-zag up a hill fringed with points of dark green pines. Behind the pines are mountains still brown with the night.

Soon, sun rising behind that massive, undulating brown backdrop turns grays to golds on opposite mountain. Soon a brilliant red cardinal bobs among crimson leaves and a blue, black, and white jay swoops from rust to yellow to reds. He twitches his tail on leaves still glistening with dew. The sky is clear blue. In brighter light, the leafy avian playground empties of activity. Birdsong quiets. Pearl plods from low-lying still-white areas of her meadow to her little knoll now green and gold. More voices rise from the valley. Day has dawned. Time’s a-ticking.