The glory of the forest is revealed in the early morning light. The skyscraper tall trees stand serenely, awash with a tender glow. Their bark loosely peeling catches the light giving them a torn crusty exterior. The first blush of morn gives the leafy bower a green-going-to-gold complexion and a composting, organic smell rises up in waves like a miasma. The sweet surrendering scent of morning dew fills the forest with a gloom fragrance that blends with the Eucalyptus air in perfection.
The mist floats around the trees in the gentle elusive currents, although it looks ethereal and gossamer-fragile, it packs a punch far above its weightlessness. It writhes and coils with delight, its ghostly scarves wrapping every surface and shrouding the view. Skeletal bough’s twist and glitter like brass coils set facing a lambent and curling flame.