Aurora skies inaugurate yet another daybreak, beyond the mountains, far east. I’ve lived here just a mere few years, and yet how she eagerly dresses herself uniquely for eons and more is a trick that I’ve to pick from her.
The birds are eager to soar, the squirrels are ready to dig into their stash. I hear the owls calling it a day, and I see a cat hurrying after a lucky mice. Damn, again!
Until the light of moon dawns at dusk, the muse will have to wait as nature unveils herself. I’m no artist if I can’t appreciate the effortless painting of nature, I mutter to myself. As a self rejuvenating therapy, it’s highly recommended, and bring no book, for this one day , we’ll give to idleness, only nature and me.
Acknowledgements :- Thank you Ingrid for hosting Prosery at dVerse. The line that is to be used is taken from William Wordsworth’s poem , ‘Lines Written at a small distance from my House…
“And bring no book, for this one day
We’ll give to idleness.”
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