It was light but the sun had yet to break the mountain tops to warm his face. He was in the foothills and could see the sun’s caress far to the West and watched its slow steady progress towards him, spreading across the plane before him. With each league, yard, foot the sun came closer he could feel the air warm. The sun crossed a stream casting glittering light i all directions as it illuminated a stretch of long broad rapids. He longed to bath in its warmth but could not rush to it, he had to wait for it to come to him. The sun caught the top of the trees that about him and crept down their trunks, bathed their limbs, crept closer and closer until the first rays caught his hair. He turned to face the warmth, the light. His brow, his nose, his cheeks, his chin. The warmth of the sun spread through his arms, his torso, his thighs to his feet. Immersed in the warmth and light of the sun he was cleansed, fulfilled, fully aware and alive, ready for the day and all that it would bring. A day of promises.