Poem: Morning’s Firsts

Early morning,
when the chilly air
brushes against my cheeks
and the gray sky waits for the first
bird to release its song,
is the most peaceful time.

Right before the peal of children’s
laughter marks the beginning of a
hurried life, even before the first
coffee beans are ground and put
into a pot to percolate,
that’s where I wait.
 
Letting the stillness hover
anxious for the first beads of color
to roll across the sky.
 
I feel a promise in the coming dawn.
I sit in the quiet
and watch it unfold.
Until I hear the chatter of animals
announce the arrival of the day,
the first vehicle peters by
and the house behind me awakens.
 
In those few moments of
stillness I recognize how
beautiful the world is, before I turn
to go in and join the schedules and
rhythm of life.