“Sunrise”

“Day came first to Olympus: the gods on high rode in coaches of amethyst, past shrines of dark-violet rubellite, above plains of black-opal pink, protected by canopies of light-spinel-red, over roadways made from rosy quartz, and under sconces of moonstone. The highest wispy clouds looked like pink ballet tutus and swirls of cotton candy. Elements of the middle rack had risen, but the blood still hung heavy in their veins as they drifted along. The vapors fringing the horizon lay somnolent, having opened their eyes but not yet left their beds. The earth, though, massed heavy in sleep. For the weighty buildings and trees, the bustle above had not yet intruded on the opiated abandon of night. The thick-waisted elm, solid Kentucky coffee, and graceful Japanese Pagoda trees slumbered mutely, oblivious to encroaching day. Night continued to rule the dark deadness of the soil. Only the sky had awakened—but minute by minute it lightened and brightened and came closer to the ponderous earth, which it would soon stir.”