SonRise, The Final Ride

The fading purple darkness recedes with a reverent silence,
Making way for the grayness of almost-morn.
Foggy air thins, parting for lavender and rose and orange to bloom at the horizon.
Slowly, the insects and birds awaken, calling softly, heralding the waking world.
The dampness evaporates; the chill subsides, carried away by warmer breezes.
Plant life stretches eastward with expectancy like a premonition,
For truly, all of Nature ardently, heartily, opens the curtain of Dawn,
Waiting with undaunted anticipation for Golden Son to take the stage.

Listen...

A rumble in the distance creates a throbbing hum in the air
That unsheathes like a blade to vanquish the cacophony of wildlife in praise of Day.
Fiercely, the booming dissonance increases, shaking leaves, grass, flowers.
The earth itself quakes with the intense, foreboding shudder of growling engines,
Ever closer, ever closer.
Anxious now, birds take flight, insects hush, and a stillness of life remains,
Awaiting the resonating, snarling roar that ominously approaches from behind the skyline...
And at long last, veiled in deafening, vibrating thunder, with Dawn upon their shoulders,
The raging, thrilling, screaming machines explode at the horizon to make Apollo's Run.
And thus, The Final Ride begins...

By Lani, 9/9/14