Morning Dark

The dark of night slips in gently. The light changes. Sometimes a sunset lights the sky with fire announcing dark with a blare of red orange trumpets. Life slows down and yawns begin to rock the body into slumber. Bed is warm and cozy and dark wraps itself around you like a blanket, a shawl, a gentle lover's arm.

Morning dark is harsh and cold. There must be light to pierce the dark and yet that very light is an intrusion. Morning dark does not want to be pushed away. The fire warms and illuminates a small space around the hearth. Computers, up and running for blogs or journals or the first news of the day, shed a glow upon the face of the user tucked in his corner of the couch or her chair by the fire. The morning dark resists these pitiful attempts to waken to the day. Take one step away and dark once again surrounds. 

Slowly of course the windows shed their dark and trees begin to form an outline distinct from the lightening sky. Still it will be a while before inside objects take on dimension without the help of artificial light. The dark of morning is an obstacle to be overcome, a tightly wound blanket to be fought while awakening from your own sleep, urging the light, the energy of the day to finally penetrate the cold harsh reality of morning's dark before the dawn. ~ blessings this day