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.

 Here's a little poem I wrote that I hope ya'll enjoy! Also, for those of you who didn't know, I wrote a second part to Amira.

JOYFUL MORNING
 

How long the night has been, Mother,

When will it be day?

Sorrow fills my mind;

Is the darkness here to stay?

Nay, my child, the night must end,

The sun shall rise once more;

There shall be a joyful morning

Of this I am sure.

Mother, the moon is clouded,

The stars I cannot see;

How can you trust the sunrise

A gusty autumn wind was blowing around the corners and eaves of the mansion when I awoke the next morning. I scarcely remembered arriving the night before, I had been so exhausted, but now I was well-rested and eager for a good breakfast to begin the day. Climbing out of my soft, warm bed (that I considered far too large for just one person), I crossed to the window and pulled the cord to draw back the heavy curtains.

Something held her at the topmost stair,
another hand beside her own
and the ghostly wind through the night pulsed soft,
Was it music or did it moan?
She was drawn out toward the night
like a moth drawn to the light
To fly into the candle,
to fly into the flame,
is to be more than courage,
is to rise above shame
And the ellum awoke and shook themselves
and they wept for something that only they felt
And she nearly stepped out into the star-swirling dark

With my arm around the candle

And my boots thumping on the ground

Though the sky is still gray

I'm still coming

Out in the dim lit earth

To see Your glory dawn.  

(written when it was 6:41, in the morning, waking from a dream)

Leaves dangle
Light lingers little
Birds are hushing
Sky blushes pale

Darkness falls
Stars gleam
Moon rises
Tree frogs sing

The night whispers
With early spring choir
The path is strewn
With fallen flower

Weary, worn, the world lays
Lonely, forlorn, the people pray
Steadfast, sturdy, the Father listens
Gentle, caring, the Father beckons

Fears are assured, rest falls
Upon the sheep gathered in fold
The Shepherd watches
The Shepherd stands
Along side the flock

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!

Breaking through the horizons
With golden rays of haze
Sparkling the dew, and glinting
Upon the waters
Sloping rain drenched plains
Casting yellow rays unto the hills
Mountains tall, shadows in morn
The sky is majestic
As the birds sing

Golden-green shines in the leaves
Forest dark is lightened by fire
And the creatures stir
The shadows blown away
The fresh winds come
The brightness blinds
As it blushes in the clouds
Something comes over dark fields
It is dawn

The night so fair
Wind so cool
Deep waves of sea
Flow ever on

The stars glimmer
Spreading brightness
On deep blue sea
Reflects
Fair moon
Above the sea

The sky, the sea
Deep blue
Rushing sound
Of waves
Gusting
Wind

The wave’s lapping shore
Tide pulls in
As sun rises
Over peaks
Of blue seas
Shall endure the morn.