" The morning, which is the most memorable
season of the day,
is the awakening hour.
Then there is least somnolence in us;
and for an hour, at least,
some part of us awakes which slumbers
all the rest of the day and night.
Morning is when I'm awake
and there is a dawn in me."
{Thoreau}
the small hours before dawn,
outside my window, a world of velvety darkness.
steam rising in gentle undulations from my cup,
a silent rising up, up, so softly into the air.
the silence of this sleeping house,
soothing, restorative...
the sway and flicker of candle flames,
a reminder to walk forward in this day
ever so softly, ever so gently...