Before the cock crows

There's something wonderfully peaceful about 4 a.m. when it's dark and the house is silent. I'm the only one awake -- or at least the only one I can hear for a change. There are no televisions blaring or loud voices just outside the windows or coming through the walls and floors. It's still and silent. It's a magical time when I'm just waking up and the thoughts are quietly creeping out of their dream state. It's a creative time for me and when I do some of my best work. It wasn't always this way. I believed mornings were best seen from a distance, preferably after 10 a.m. I still see mornings from a distance, but it's before and not behind the sun.

Beanie just asked me why I was up so early. She's at work, but she's also two hours ahead of me. I told her it was because I woke up.

It's cold right now, as it usually is in the mornings during winter, fall and early spring. The heat is off again after being on all day yesterday and the early part of the night while I sweated and felt uncomfortable. There is no happy medium when someone else is in charge of the heat. It's one thing I won't miss. I feel like diving back under the covers where it's still warm and cozy but not to sleep, rather to lie in the dark and listen for the first notes of bird song that herald the paling horizon and the sun rising from it's molten copper bed.