Apollo's Rebellion

They say it’s always the darkest before dawn. I’ve been awake early too many times to know that it is true. Sleep is still calling me, but I sit on my patio and taste the waking dawn on my lips. The birds and the neighbours’ dogs can taste it too. Their voices can be heard from a million miles away.

There’s a blue tinge in the sky and the smell of a thousand flowers caress my nose. Sunflowers, daisies, tulips…all bright like the sun. A small, red and black bird atop my giant tree sings me a song. He stops. Then asks, “What song would you like today?” His was head moving from side to side.
“Something welcoming,” I whispered back, too afraid that my voice may scare the sun away. The dew drops on the grass are under cold under my touch. Yet, I still slip off my slippers and walk slowly across the garden. It’s as if they are diamonds, left by a bandit whose pockets had holes in them now they are scattered all over my grass. A worm makes its way past my bare foot as if to get away from something or someone. A bullet of black comes into my vision and the worm is picked up by a myna. I shoo it away but it just screeches at me. I run back to the safety of my chair, too afraid to find out if mynas also like human flesh.

There’s a taste of anticipation in the air as if the world is waiting. There’s a bright glow on the horizon. Inch by inch I can see it, hear it, taste it, smell it, feel it coming. One more moment…and in that moment the entire world held its breath.