The Breaking Dawn.

This is just a small story, or what I like to call a word picture, of my interpretation of a sunrise. Nothing to do with Ireland, but when I get there I will compare the sunrises. Enjoy!

Darkness surrounded the small window overlooking the moonlit yard. Not a sound was to be heard, except for the occasional buzz of the crickets. On the edge of the horizon a crack of light appeared. It was dark, yet it was beginning to be light. All at once, as the light grew slightly stronger, the silence was immediately filled with song. The birds all awoke at once, singing to the sunrise. The sun had not risen, it was dark. But the light from the distance had awoken the birds. But, as it was still night, the crickets were still chirping in the tress. The medley of birdsong and crickets woke the girl. From pure silence, to beautiful song, the morn was broken. The birds sang to the dawn as the crickets bid the night adieu. Not quite dawn, not quite night. The birds and the crickets join in song for a few moments, one to say goodbye, the other to bid welcome the dawn. The girl sighed as the birdsong increased, and the cricket voices faded into the night. The sliver of light was no longer a sliver, but a glow that lit up the sky. The sun would soon make its round into the sky, and the girl sang a song in her heart, along with the joyful song of the birds. One more day, one more blessed day, had dawned. And all too soon, the birdsong would blend in the twilight along with the cricket voices, say goodbye to the sun, and welcome the starry night.