On the Pulse of Morning

Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and
out
And into your sister’s eyes, into
Your brother’s face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning.
-Maya Angelou

I love the quiet of the morning.
These days, I have been getting up
around 4:45
either for a little bit or a lot a bit
At this time of the year, the sun is already out
mostly

Usually, I like to stay in bed.
Today, I ventured outside.
Wasn’t sure why.

Once outside
I got a couple of pictures but mostly a few deep breaths dawn air
in a quiet world.
Hard to imagine a quiet world on any day
But it felt like one today
(I also realized that I had left my friend’s car illegally parked for days after forgetting to move it…but the coincidence & beauty of that is writing for another day.)

Perhaps that’s why I like the mornings?
A pause in an otherwise noisy world.
When I read a lot and have time to think a lot
Which has been the case for months
Then my mind races
In good ways and weirder ways

Taking in the freshness and the honesty
and the simplicity of morning air
when the sky is disguised as different colors
when the cranes are waking up to talk to each other
when the moist grass readies for a day of travelers
The way people move slower and easier when the sun is not yet all the way up
And the sounds of the world are stretching before they turn on
is a magical way to start a new day