Not sure
I'm not sure if mornings awake on the mountains, or the other way around, I just remembered how the sun with his hand on the peak, pulled his body through the dark, and suddenly the Sky turns from blue to cyan, walked down the hill, softly warming hand across the valley, I'm sure if the sun was crawling, or were mountains the ones who came to catch him. The shiny yellow dot vanished as a dream, and reality became clear, shapes rise from shadows, as the morning turns on his fire, some morning are faster than other, as they woke among cotton sheets and shadows. I'm not sure how the morning happens, science talks that fades away, about the world and turns, but I rather magic, and see how the sun among the mountains crawling.