Daybreak in Paradise

Daybreak in Paradise

 

Thick, colourless morning mist slowly rose over the valley turning it to ghostly grey and leaving behind the darkness that was night.

Vague, abstract shapes of the day-world began to appear creating moment by moment a difference to the entire shadow of the yet to be perceived.

The aspect of blackness turned to greyness and then to distinctive shapes and recognition but the colours lagged behind missing yet, their agent of creative distinctiveness and depth.

I sat there mesmerised and intrigued by the constant changes and evolving patterns.

The haze was lifted in due course by the Sun’s morning heat to reveal the patterns and profoundness of the individual hues set within the green paddocks.

And the outline of black trees now turned to frosty white and ash along with the rough-barked, soil-coloured hardwoods.

All being displayed against an emerging backdrop of rolling hills ‘till it revealed the peaceful pale blue skies of the breaking day.

Dom, covered with his fly proof coat, stands there gently grazing in the far meadow living in a world where beautiful mornings are common place and a matter of fact.

Tall, 17 hands, he moves about taking his breakfast slowly and appreciatedly.

Not knowing that he is part of an Angel’s canvas where no more could be added to perfection than what he is doing now.

Unconcerned that three skilled workers, one of whom has travelled over 20,000 kms to perform  this task, were putting together a barn and stables that is to be the envy of the district for its quality and craftsmanship.

Planked with magnificent Tiger wood where every grain forms part of a living mosaic.

The craftsmen scribed around every natural bend and post so that each piece fits perfectly into the next.

Yet no man’s effort can impress or emulate and be accepted as an improvement, but it can be merely hoped, that by appreciation to blend in with what nature has already provided.

And no matter how much we may admire what is indeed a beautiful sight, Dom, of course, will be blissfully unaware that he is a part of this living work of art.

John Audet

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