Surrounded by the majesty, that is unspoiled nature.
Above, is draped a most beautiful azure canopy, that lightens by the moment.

And, here I sit in the glade of Elveden,
gazing wistfully at the lake,
looking into the mid-distance. Pondering. Waiting. Musing.
Morpheus surely reigns?

Morning mist hovers above the lake,
not yet scorched by the sun
which slumbers below the horizon,
and which marches ever closer.
Air of Imminence.

In the fog, my imagination runs amok.
Birdsong from afar masks, almost, what seems to be
the sound of children playing, children laughing.
Is it the drowsiness of solitude, of the moment?
Or is it elementals all around, unseen, chattering to each other
and greeting the birth of this new day?
Pleasant unknowing.

The grass bends, flowers sway gently.
and yet the mist remains.
Could this be an, as yet, unregistered breeze
or the fae jumping from to and fro, from flower to flower?
The Talmud declares that each blade of grass has its own angel
whose sole purpose is to whisper, ‘Grow, grow.’
Sancta simplicitas.

And, then the day begins.
The son of Hyperion rises on the horizon
in all his brilliance, and
pierces the mist,
and heralds the start of a new day.
The Sun appears.
I find myself standing in awe, in praise of the Sun of righteousness.
Orans.

Could it only have been idle thoughts,
my imagination?
Could it have been angel-song?
Or, could it have been that in the clearing of Elveden,
that ancient den of elves,
that elementals had truly been at play?

Alone with the Alone!

— oOo —

[Early morning reflections, Capel Curig, Wales]

Note: Gökotta is a Swedish word, and the closest English meaning is: to wake up early in the morning to go outside to hear the first birds sing.