Thoughts on First Light and Hope
Sometimes we strive so much for the dawn-
Those beautiful moments of the new day when
The surface of the lake shimmers,
Resplendent in swathes of glorious gold,
That we miss the beauty of what comes before:
That first, almost imperceptible softening of indigo;
The sweep of nocturnal wings returning home to roost;
The silent glide of white feathered swans through soft mercurial waters and
The sigh of the silver birch fronds stirring
In the whispered winter breeze.
Yet in this first light of pre-dawn,
As the crags and ridgelines emerge from the velvet blanket of night,
As indigo gentles to navy, then softens to lilac and rose,
There is a sense of something simple...
Ethereal even...
An expectation...An excitement..An anticipation...
An ephemeral hope...
Of moments yet to happen...
Stories yet to be written...
And of dreams yet to be fulfilled...
Frances Mary Chipperfield January 2024
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