Life With Horace

poetry & essays

1 Comment

early quiet

in the early dark
my thoughts come to life,
slowly staggering from
their nest of dreams
to touch my heart,
stretching catlike,
looking for a sun
that is not there yet,
zig zag from long habit,
free to catch whatever
crumbs of memory or hope
lie in their path,
slowly reaching knowledge
of the day, moments
just ahead, moving through
the sleeping house by rote,
not yet ready
for the coming meld,
welcoming the warmth
that movement brings,
anticipating coffee,
craving music, upping tempo,
now in gear, they join me
to rejoice in this new day,
remember gratitude