Inspiration strikes in the early morning pre-dawn darkness.  It’s so early the sun has not even considered getting up or opening its soft blue-gray eye.  Unlike the optimistic, enthusiastic morning birds that joyously begin rousing the day while night still firmly cups the world in darkness, the human lights haven’t stopped burning in the dark.  The lights rest under the watchful sunlight.  I am awake before the birds, before the sun, before the night slowly lets the darkness drain through its fingers as the sky becomes morning.  Inside I don’t see this exchange, but I like to think I can feel it happening.


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