sunrise - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
My eyes welcome the sunrise, that iris of fire so pretty in its mascara of pure light.
Sunrise came as a golden tunnel to a world of forever-light.
How the greens and blues were risen into a new and vibrant glow by the sunrise.
Sunrise called to the soul of the land as a mother to her child.
The sunrise came as if it had missed the sky and wanted nothing more than to warm up those blues to a radiant gold.
The sunrise illuminated the blue as if it were igniting the most perfect flame.
The sun blooms on the horizon, golden petals stretching ever outwards into the rich blue. It is the brilliant flower of the sky that warms our days. It is the invitation to a new day, that sunrise so ordinary extraordinary.
The sunrise is the warmest hues of the rainbow, the colours that bring a gentle passion to the soul. It is the calling of the skies to rise and be something great, a new person that is revealed to me daily as I work to become my best self.
Before this rising sun I may be only a silhouette, yet as its rays, golden and strong, touch my skin, I will be every colour I was born to radiate.
Above those tangerine mountains, kissed to their heady blush by the sun, were clouds that moved in shoals. And so the sky was equal parts blue and a chorus of greys, streaked with silvers and golds.
Under the sunrise, the apples glowed more rosy than they do in the dayshine. The branches of each tree spread out as if so proud of the bounty they brought and sweetness given within each one. It was a party of colours, of chaos and order, of a beauty that sprung from simple seeds blessed with mud and rain.
The sunrise brings us copper hues with a kiss of sweet baby lips. The sky is all the colours I've been yearning for, as if water could catch fire and become something so new.
After the blackness of night, Earth's star rises on the horizon, spreading her gold in every direction. She comes in the way that natural forces do, needing not invitation yet feeling her welcome. The light is her gift, bold and free, for anyone who cares to open their eyes in the dawn and watch the world awake. This is our sun, a fire ignited to bring warmth to creation and inspire us to seek our own beauty within.
And in a moment I am cast in crimson, bathed in a rosy glow; how the sun gives each dawn without even the asking or the earning of the light. I move my fingers through the air that grows brighter with each passing moment until it becomes a new bold day. Even in winter, as I watch my breath rise skyward, I feel the promise of the gentle spring passing into blood and bone, becoming a deeper part of who I am.
The sunrise means so many things as it drifts in, igniting the colours of my room. This light is the greatest artist in history, creating beauty on the canvas beyond this window pane. It shines a path to my friends, and, as my mind wanders to them, I feel my eyes smile and a rising coziness in my core. Along the way, these new rays will reveal silken webs and grass wands of many hues, the rich browns of oak arms, the silver-cream of our moon above. Even before I move the duvet, I have dreamed each waving leaf, telling its own story to the wind with each dancing flutter.
The sun rose like a flower opening, gifting its petals unto the world. Amid the dancing raindrops was the blush of scarlet, the warmth of tangerine. Gazing toward the illuminated clouds, still beneath the ethereal glow, Calipso felt at home in a way she never had before.
Golden light dribbled over the land like syrup on oatmeal. The leaves shimmered like a mirror flecked mosaic and the morning dew sparkled on the bejeweled cobwebs and grass.
After a long cold night the daybreak brought glimmers of warmth. The golden light softly caressed the land and ignited the birds into a chorus of melodies.