I sift my fingers through the open blinds and push them away to behold the day calling. Storms have come and gone, perhaps more will come, but this sunrise is clear as day. A few bulky streaks of sunlight plaster the patches of grass.
The medical school a bus-stop away is shrouded in the distance by sheltering trees and light warms the sides of rugged rooftop peaks, piercing through the covering of evergreens.
The sun isn't fully visible, and at this time if year it wont stay for long. Most yellow leaves have fallen away from the main body, half decomposed on the ground, as though dying young, while orange ones glisten along entangled trunks of trees in brilliant victory, maturing a little longer. The few reds remaining shine as they turn, the sun hitting their waxy undercoating. Different shades of shimmering scarlet pull the scenery together. I can barely see them, they are beautiful but they are few.
Amongst the clammy cold winds and peace of serenity, morning birds behave the same as always with their variety of songs. Below the dawn chorus light shines at the end of the accomocation pathway, leading up to an open field of grass, glittering, with the tips of their blades holding sun glossed dew