Personifying the Sun

I always get the idea in my head that it should still be fairly dark just before sunrise.  As if sunlight is condensed in a small area and appears all at once like a magic trick.  And so, when I awake to low light levels, in which I can clearly see without my head torch, I begin to panic that I have missed this morning spectacle.  Yet, it is a gradual process and the sun hints at its grand appearance with gentle pale yellow beams, as if testing the water to make sure that all is well and the conditions are just right for its arrival.  Maybe it is teasing the early risers, who are awaiting the light, warmth, and fresh start to a new day, and it brightens the sky just a little bit more, ever so slightly, to build up the eager anticipation of its viewers.  Or perhaps, the sun does not do mornings, like a lazy Garfield the cat, requiring adequate time for waking to the point of being fully aware and alert.  So, it spends a couple hours gradually stretching, reaching out higher in the sky, as if growing, while fighting back exhaustion and the urge to curl up for a nap among the cozy, fluffy clouds, which it may do on rainy days. 

It can take quite sometime for the light to access all corners of the island and penetrate the forest here at the center, as it warms up, flexing its muscles, extending its reach.  Until then, the flowers remain closed, content in their own slumber.  They only begin to unfurl as they sense the nearing touch of the sun, attaining full bloom with unrestricted exposure to the morning light, as if shedding an extra blanket or layer of clothing that was necessary to maintain a comfortable temperature overnight.  Gleefully, the birds greet the morning, perhaps cheering on the sun, encouraging it to rise up, as they are eager to begin a new day of foraging for food, caring for their young, or traveling to places yet unseen.