THE ALBIR DAWN:

 The Albir dawn was rhapsody in blue. My friend the Crone moon, a finger-nail sliver etched in her dying ebbing upon cyan silk sky, from where hung suspended by invisible thread, mulberry clouds, hiding a still sleepy sun. A taupe satin sea awakening with little giggles tickling her shore, tranquil & sedate embracing her friend the river running in pale blue-grey rivulets to meet & mingle in blue hugs. Upon the ample sheet of satin, the tired navy blue fishing boats float into the bay full of blue & silver fish, followed by gulls that in the blue tinged light are no longer white, but tinged in lapis lazuli, jewels upon the wing. On my left I pass a cottage with indigo door framed with sapphire morning glory & cornflower blue plumbago. On my right, siluetted over the bay, the mount of Calpe, azabache/blue-black. As I finish my walk the sun peeps over this blue morn casting a golden path from the horizon´s end to the shore, promising a lemon-drop day swathed in yellow sunshine & the gulls joined me in singing the blues with Albir. Who says the days are all the same?