Morning is the best of all times in the garden. The sun is not yet hot. Sweet vapors rise from the earth. Night dew clings to the soil and makes plants glisten. Birds call to one another. Bees are already at work.

Dreams and dedication are a powerful combination.

The bee is domesticated but not tamed.

But tomorrow, dawn will come the way I picture her,barefoot and disheveled, standing outside my windowin one of the fragile cotton dresses of the poor.She will look in at me with her thin arms extended,offering a handful of birdsong and a small cup of light.

Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,But to be young was very heaven!

Good Dawning to thee friend.