Prose- Dawn of Winter
linebyline line is "shades of gray". I was trying to write something more positive than the line suggests, so I decided to do it on a winter morning. Because, when you wake up after a snow the light seems dulled, somehow gray in comparison to the snow, you know?
Anyway, I'm really tired tonight, so I don't think this is my best work. I'd love to hear comments about how to improve it.
Dawn of Winter
At first it's so close to black you can barely make out anything.
The black lightens, and you can vaguely see the outline of trees, cars, houses.
It becomes a bit lighter still, and you see that everything is bathed in whiteness, perfected by freshly fallen, crisp snow.
The gray is decidedly lighter now, and you can see the finer details, where the curb becomes the road, the grass becomes the concrete.
More white is added to the pallete, and the gray light becomes brighter, allowing you to see the curtains on all the windows, the tiny prints left by rabbit paws hopping through the backyards. THe finer details, the simple things that make everything that much more magical.
The grey is even lighter closer to white than ever, but still not as bright as a pure white light. And now you see everything. You see every tiny leaf on the bushes outside your window. You see the tiny hills and valleys made by shifting winds during the night. And you can see icecycles, delicate, perfect icecycles, hanging from the eaves. They're reflecting rainbows all around, you notice when you look at them right.
Because there is beauty everywhere, even in the barrenness of winter. And there's color even amidst shades of gray.
Amybe I'm trying too hard at the end?? Thoughts? Please?
Anyway, I'm really tired tonight, so I don't think this is my best work. I'd love to hear comments about how to improve it.
Dawn of Winter
At first it's so close to black you can barely make out anything.
The black lightens, and you can vaguely see the outline of trees, cars, houses.
It becomes a bit lighter still, and you see that everything is bathed in whiteness, perfected by freshly fallen, crisp snow.
The gray is decidedly lighter now, and you can see the finer details, where the curb becomes the road, the grass becomes the concrete.
More white is added to the pallete, and the gray light becomes brighter, allowing you to see the curtains on all the windows, the tiny prints left by rabbit paws hopping through the backyards. THe finer details, the simple things that make everything that much more magical.
The grey is even lighter closer to white than ever, but still not as bright as a pure white light. And now you see everything. You see every tiny leaf on the bushes outside your window. You see the tiny hills and valleys made by shifting winds during the night. And you can see icecycles, delicate, perfect icecycles, hanging from the eaves. They're reflecting rainbows all around, you notice when you look at them right.
Because there is beauty everywhere, even in the barrenness of winter. And there's color even amidst shades of gray.
Amybe I'm trying too hard at the end?? Thoughts? Please?