Noon
I can express it in no other terms . Dawn came like a blast of trumpets , driving the flocks of the red flamingoes before it , tremendous , and shattering the night of stars at the first fanfare . A moment later , and , changing the image , imagination could hear the sea of light bursting against the far edge of the horizon , even as you watched the spindrift of it surging up to heaven and the waves of it breaking over ridge and tree and plain of waving grass . Noon was the hour of silence . Under the pyramid of light the land lay speechless , without a shadow except the shadow of the flying bird , or a sound except the sigh of the grass , touched and bent by the wind , if it blew . Evening brought with it a new country . There was no dusk here , no beauties of twilight , but the level light of sunset brought a beauty of its own .