Sunrise

By Doris Garber

Once upon a time there was a place called Sunrise where the leaves turned crimson and floated upon the clear rushing water, along the bank of mossy green, under the sweeping branches, above the salamander speckled brown with large watery eyes, and clustered together as if to say, “We are one and move as surely as the stars.”

Upon the yellow leaf when days were long her mother had built a wicker basket of greenest grass and softest cotton safely hidden in the raspberry bush, for she was never to see her child as days ripened her seed, as the sunlight glistened upon the dew.

Each day her mother had watched the leaves turn so gently golden, waiting for the edges to turn bright red, when her wings would harden and she would float, as surely as the leaves, as surely as the stars.

A time came with the sweet morning breeze that she was swept up in the glowing rays over the clear rushing water to the bank of mossy green, where to her amazement was occuring a dance of wings as her brothers and sisters circled around rejoicing her arrival. There rang out songs proclaiming this beautiful world, songs which told of life in Sunrise, songs of the beginning, songs which lasted all night and they sang together until the morning came.

After a time, he took her hand and she was pleased, and they floated away as one, as surely as the leaves, as surely as the stars.

Together they found just the right spot on just the right bush and she made a wicker basket of greenest grass and softest cotton and together they sang, “Hush little baby, don’t you cry. Tomorrow’s going to be a new sunrise.”

And they were one, as surely as the leaves, as surely as the stars.

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