The Golden Hour

The just risen sun stretches – rays

reaching over and through the trees

to touch the misty valley floor.

The magic hour just after the sunrise

where the daylight is a soft, warm orange.

I try to resist but grab my camera and jump out.

I run over to the moist web filled hill.

I smile as I look into my lens.

An ancient tree frames the left side

and an antique fence leads you through the field

into the line of trees that cover the base of the mountains.

The sun, an early morning orange haze

reflects in the fog covered grass. Rays stretch

across the sky and through the field to say

hello.