Rhythm of Morning...

After such lengthy posts, here is an opener for a series of very short writings. Such tiny postings are intended to relax the reader.

The silent hour of night has come to an end giving way to a ravishing golden dawn. Can you hear the cry of a child? A woman next-door is giving her child a bath. The southern breeze is blowing the drops of dew off the cheeks of flowers. The newspaper boy is on his way down the street. You can also hear the sound of oil splashed onto the burning pan, someone started to cook. The phone is repeatedly ringing, but everyone around are quite busy, people rushed to offices, while their children walked to school.

A car speeds by, forming a cloud of dust and dry leaves, leaving behind thick black exhaust fumes. Women as a part of daily prayers are worshipping the tulsi plant. The ants are singing in chorus, servant maids have just arrived; one cleans a rag, another washes dishes, another beats clothes, various sound waves mix up to form a rhythm, the rhythm of morning.