Sylvan

The sun rise is announced with the chirping of birds; everyone else is still asleep. One by one the trees slowly begin to wake up. Lifting their leafy heads, they stretch their limbs to the dusty pink sky and settle into place with creaks and moans. The morning breeze winds through them, shaking the morning dew off the leaves.

The sun hasn't reached the top of the trees yet, and it sends sparkling beams of light through the web of branches, illuminating the forest floor. Sleepy flowers open their petals and turn their golden centers to capture the sunshine. Suddenly, the green and brown background is a speckled rainbow of colors.

The noise increases as animals materialize from the holes and shadows of the forest. A vermilion fox, a cocoa brown bear, and a tawny doe with her rusty fawn make their appearances. The squirrels seem to have to woken with a jolt; their tails are bushy and their movements nervous. They scamper around the canopy of branches, zoom up and down tree trunks, and chatter excitedly. Fat, little chipmunks waddle out from under their blankets of leaves. It's a new day, and that means new food.

Not everyone is waking though. As one cycle is beginning, another one ends. Two silver and black raccoons slink back into their den, returning from a night of foraging. The sunlight means bedtime. Swivel-head owls, who have kept watch throughout the night, can now closed their wide eyes and rest easily, knowing that the forest is safe for another day.

The world turns, and the forest lives on in the same pattern of life that it has always done.

Bethany Bachman writes in Philadelphia and wishes everyone a Happy Thanksgiving!

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