Dawn was breaking over the horizon, shell pink and faintly gold.
It's the hour when night breaks away from the day, my dove, let me go.
Morning comes like a scream through a pinhole.
Day! Faster and more fast. O'er night's brim, day boils at last.
There were hints of sunrise on the rim of the sky, yet it was still dark, and the traces of morning color were like goldfish swimming in ink.
The morning steals upon the night, Melting the darkness.
...she woke up in time to see the sun sending up spies ahead of him to mark out the road through the dark. He peeped up over the door sill of the world and made a little foolishness with red.
As the dawn comes up like thunder.
Dor woke again as dawn came. The sun had somehow gotten around to the east, where the land was, and dried off so that it could shine again.
