the newness of spring

"There is not anything like dawn from the top of a high mountain. About the rim, on the end of the world, a pink streak whipped across, a paintbrush swept a million miles across the sky. Morning wind picked up and hit our faces and me and Grandpa knew the colors and the morning birth had come alive. The paint-brush run up in streaks - red, yellow and blue. The mountain rim looked like it had caught fire; then the sun cleared the trees. It turned the fog into a pink ocean, heaving and moving down below. The sun hit me and grandpa in the face. The world had got born all over again." - The Education of Little Tree