A hush before the morning breaks,
Where silence drapes the dreaming lakes.
The world still held in shadow’s hand—
A breathless pause, a sleeping land.
But in the hush, a whisper grows,
A golden thread the darkness knows.
The sky begins to draw its breath,
And stirs the veil of nighttime death.
The sun spills ink on cloud and hill,
The birds arise with notes that thrill.
Each leaf, each stone, be...
