One cold winter morning, I heard the sun knocking at my window

The night had not left my warm bed yet, and the morning sun still lay hidden behind the thick curtain of morning mist. I sat wrapped in my old easy chair, with a rather late cup of morning tea when I heard someone whispering very softly and suddenly – from behind the misty window panes – a golden river of warm morning sun came flooding, rippling, sparking in, lighting the darkness in my room. And the window glass panes suddenly seemed to melt into a golden flame and . . . I smiled!