> one <
The mist is clearing. It is almost dawn. Standing proudly at
the peak of the smooth green hill, the huge tree creaked, and the swing tied
onto one of its sturdy branches swayed timely with the wind as it hushes all in the
valley into deeper slumber. Yet there is one who has stirred awake even before
the night left all habitants of the green hilly plains to the warmth of the
morning sun. In the coolness of the wind and what was left of the fog the night
before, a rooster scratched the wooden post and then breaks the stillness about
the farm at the foot of the hill.
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