It feels early before 7 am, like I’m pedaling through the remains of my dreams to reach wakefulness once more. The misty air smells damp, and creatures who prefer to do business in the gentle morning light fade in and out of it. Even the sun has to work its way through the mist in a red cloak to reach the waking world unclothed, once more too bright to look at.
2 responses to “dawndreaming”
You’ve always been a wonderful writer, Dylan, but but this is poetry. The description is even more evocative than the beautiful photograph!
Ah, the rewards of waking up early