Sunday Morning

All was silent when I left the house at six thirty this morning. Outside I was enveloped in darkness. Not sinister though..gentle..and somewhat comforting, as though Folkestone was wrapped up in a soft warm blanket. The whole neighbourhood was asleep. After a short while, I was able to see without the aid of the street lights and a few birds began to sing. I was walking up a steep hill when I noticed that from where I was stood, the entire left side of the sky was a ruby red, the other half as pastel blue. I watched as the colours changed. The left half began to turn a deep orange as the sun rose. Meanwhile, scarlet clouds drifted to the right- across the emerald hills and the sun illuminated the ivory outline of the white horse. No camera lense could capture the astounding beauty seen through the naked eye. Nor could words on a page or brush strokes upon canvas. I suppose no one will truly understand the breath taking beauty I saw this morning. I tore my eyes way from the sky for just one second but when I looked back up, it was gone. The sky was a simple blue, littered with fluffy white clouds- as always. But beautiful, none the less.


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