To arise before sun-up,
A ritual held for many a year.
Watching the sun breach the horizon and erupt,
One that many find most queer.
The silence treasured,
As the bird snores its song.
The days birth measured,
As its hours plod along.
Brewing coffee ever so lightly fills the air,
From the window perch dawns light grows.
Soundlessly showing the utmost care,
Slumber reigns majestic as solitude shows.
Morning…oh blessed morning what have you to say?
Good morning perhaps as it always has done.
There cannot, must not be any other way,
Than to start the day anew as it has always begun.
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco —