There is something liberating about
waking up early. Not too
early, mind you. But earlier
than you need to be
awake; and if you’re lucky,
early enough to see the
last of the night disappear
in the whitewash of the
morning sun, and to hear
the birds when they first
rise and start practicing their
songs, like violinists warming up
outside the concert hall for
a performance later that afternoon.
It’s a sense of freedom,
definitely — and an opportunity to
feel the earth’s slow glow
as it stretches its muscles
and wipes the traces of
sleep from its opening eyes.
29 DEC 2004
I find myself in recent days at dawn,
a time of morning I’ve not seen for years,
and in that space where darkness soon is gone
a soft, yet vibrant energy appears.
I used to be enchanted by the night,
and find that time of silence fighting sleep;
but as of late it seems, try as I might,
those midnight rendezvous are hard to keep.
So there under the carport, with the birds
as they begin to sing and stretch their wings,
I listen to the starting sounds of words
and try to notice what songs the earth sings.
It does not rule for long, this quiet peace,
But behind the day’s noise, it does not cease.
11 MAR 2004