When The House Sleeps. . .

 

Mornings have always been special.  The sounds blended on the street when Princess and I walked; the lights in the homes spoke of early risers,  the occasional car with lights on.  The dog down the street spoke his urgency to get matters started.  There still is a benevolence to the morning which I would awaken everyone to feel.  It is a palpable part of the day.    Times are different now and the body no longer equal without the exuberance which greeted the morning.   Still though it finds me alive and in dialogue with the divine within.  We put the blessing on the day.

 

When The House Sleeps. . .

As the hour
creeps toward dawn
and you put on the kitchen light
for a cup of tea,  it is good
to know that others
walk the morning.

We walk in unison
those of us whom sleep avoids,
when the dream finishes and
the heavens no longer
are a soft bed.

We hug our robes
to take  the chill off bones
shivering in the hours
the house sleeps even
if we cannot.

The tea warms
both the hands and the heart,
while the dawn approaches
with a promise.

It is enough for us to know
we are legion and
take comfort that across
our half of the world
that cannot sleep,

we keep our cosmic half awake. . . .

 

Photo by Jon Katz

4 Responses to When The House Sleeps. . .

  1. Veronica Hallissey May 19, 2017 at 5:05 pm #

    email from Suzanne. . . .You took the simplest of moments and
    made it burnished gold. Lovely.
    Suzanne

    Sent from my iPhone

  2. Maria Wulf May 22, 2017 at 7:26 pm #

    You so captured that feeling up being up at that time. And making the tea. It’s such a good feeling in some ways and yet it also has the feeling of something not right.

  3. Veronica Hallissey June 4, 2017 at 12:39 pm #

    Suzanne, there is a feeling of warmth, of community in knowing one is not the only one walking the early hours. It truly is in communion one walks.

  4. Veronica Hallissey June 4, 2017 at 12:45 pm #

    Maria, the not right feeling I get when I awaken and everyone sleeps is why I was nudged awake to search out the reason for my wakefulness. It is in the silence that the voice is heard without interruption. It is then I hear what is meant for me alone.

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