Glimpsing beyond the shutters, one eye half open, I gasped in awe.
Breaking through the clouds, a radiant light shone upon the trees. Its autumn leaves basked in the sun, reflecting a golden hue. The last time I saw the sun magnify like that was during a chilly November in Versailles, France. When the sun’s rays shone upon the palace exterior at sunset, the rich yellow walls melted into a luminous gold.
I had a piece of Versailles outside my window.
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Hugging the edge of the curvy road on my right, while admiring the pond and trees on my left, I drove down the usual route to work one morning. But this time, it was different. The sky blushed a pink, rose colored hue (not pictured) God had painted fresh streaks across the landscape: chameleon green, camouflaged brown, red, auburn, brown. The trees reflected upon the water, and the pond smiled back at me with its coat of new colors.
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I lazily awoke to the sound of my alarm one day, but the clouds hadn’t heard it; they were still snoozing. They had nestled themselves cozy overnight, and remained in their slumber, amongst the tall trees, as if they belonged there all along. It formed a white, thick fog, and I couldn’t see clearly beyond the rocks behind our house.
There are days in which I strive for clarity and vision; but other days, the fog is inviting, intriguing. Because it brings with it an allure, a hidden secret that is beyond our grasp. I wanted to reach my hand into the clouds and float in its cushions, or be swept up in its wispy arms to the top of trees, where the birds sing. So I could perch upon those brown branches and look upon our home, with a new set of eyes.
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