The sky is the color of a robin's egg, streaked with gold from the rising sun.
The dark mountains are a stark contrast against the sky. The air has a chill to it, and the song of a bird is heard in the distance.
This is her favorite time. When everything is peaceful and still, when the duties of the day have not yet begun. The morning always promises a fresh start; a new outlook on things.
She pulls her robe closer to her and breathes deeply of the morning air. The wind picks up, blowing her cinnamon curls around her face.
The sun is almost fully risen now, and the sky looks like a glorious painting of blues, purples, pinks and golds that could only be painted by the Artist of all things.
She marvels at His creation; how beautiful and perfect it is.
She hears birds and a smile tugs at her lips. The one bird has now been joined by others. They sing to one another, their chirps blending into one, sweet harmony. Their song seems to fit this lovely morning so well.
She lifts her eyes up to the sky once more. She would never want to miss a sunrise. Each one is so different, so unique, but so beautiful.
a short story I wrote. It was sort of a spur-of-the-moment thing; I was just "dabbling" a little. But maybe this will get "the juices" flowing again. :)