The Waiting

I do not want to dismiss

those quiet moments

at five in the morning before

the sun has even risen—

her moon sister savoring those

final fading hours as

Goddess of the Night Skies—

when I awake because my body yearns

for the solitude of freshly-brewed

coffee quietly stirring my

muddled morning mind—

those first sips trickling that familiar warmth down my spine—

to my toes—

to my very soul.

There is beauty in this daybreak waiting—

the Earth holding her breath—

the stillness so tangible

it clings like fog after mountain rain.

There is peace and comfort in watching—

singular—

the whole world just begin to stir.