I dozed off a little once it was morning, and woke up to stewardesses opening window covers and serving breakfast.
The captain’s voice came on, in a prim, polite British accent.
“Good morning, passengers, we hope you had a restful night. We’ve just passed over the Isle of Mann, and will be beginning our descent into London shortly.”
Isle of Mann…London…Whoa. I peered groggily out the window. The sun was just getting high enough to lose its morning softness, and I squinted against its growing glare, trying to see down through the patchy clouds.

The hawk took wing

And stretched out his flight

Soaring above the earth

As the sun was raised

Breaking the coldness.  

Shivers ran through the ground

And a silent tremor

Rustled through the trees.

The sky shone vast

Like a golden sea

The hills were gleaming

As the snow faded

All the earth below him

All the sky above him.

The glory of the seas

Rippled and glinted

The sky spread blue

As the white dawn

Delicately, heaven’s gems are glittering up high,
Aglow as flames, till one by one they sputter out and die.
With all their smiles, the dark as well hath come to melt away;
Now see this countenance of joy – the coming of the day!

As the sun peeked over the hills, sending out its first glimmers of light over the frozen, sleeping valley, it showed a glimpse of a man, and a girl, their breath showing in the icy cold, leading two horses toward a trailer. “Whoa, Rocky,” The girl admonished, tugging gently on the lead rope. “Whoa boy.” The other horse, a dark, dark shade of bay, nearly black, turned in nervous circles around the man. “Steady, Lexy, good girl.” He laid calming hand on her neck. “She’s skittish this morning” the girl said.