The clock on the wall is so loud in the dark. Three-forty-one a.m. Saving daylight is over. This is the real time now. I tried to sleep, really, I tried. Sometime after four, I gave up and made coffee. As the world around me slept, I drank myself awake.
Sitting up, after the coffee was in me, in my writing chair with the laptop open, the noises of the new day have leveled. The clock isn’t banging against my ears like before. I hear a motorcycle power down the freeway, two miles in the distance. And through my window, the sun is making the horizon turn every color of silent grey.
I know that, in another few hours or so, I’ll regret waking up like this, on the day when I’m supposed to reclaim an hour’s sleep from the powers that be. But for a few minutes more, until the sky is blue and the world is made of noise again, I’ll sit, I’ll wait, and I’ll listen to whatever this morning says to me.
© Copyright 2017 William S. Friday