Dawn in January winter

The day shone upon me with no sign of Sun,

The marigolds were smiling, but their fragrance was gone.

The air stood still with a little hint of breeze,

It passed with a murmur -sending down the chills.

A squeak felt like thunder- silence galore,

The light from that little vent passaged through the door.

The woody greens looked pale and the grass bed seemed lifeless,

The sheath of gray took over me, making me temporarily sightless.

Blaze of January amber cornered it starts,

It then travels through the corridor and warms my heart.

Time seemed to have stopped until I spot some stygian flutters in the pellucid,

The ether looks smudged by quite placid.

Post the lapse of a quarter an hour, a beam of yellow comes from afar

All eyes anticipating the emergence and reign of the morning star.

With hiding and seeking behind the blurs,

The superiority of the Sun spurs.

Now he stands mighty in his yellow drape,

Oh, what the glory of the winter landscape.

The mustard rose with the clearing sky and little people passing by,

The day starts to wake and the fog begins to fret away.

I breathe in - marigolds.

Mustard dancing to the rhythm of the wind.

There is chirping and chattering.

The tree looks robust again.

Grass beds smile back to me.

A remarkable transition we are fortunate to witness

The breaking of dawn, the start of the day.