I roll over, grab the phone- 4 AM, the usual time.
I gaze out the window to see if it is semi dark, the shortening of the days.
I roll over again, hoping sleep will grab me.
This morning a vision of a man, the dream so clear, the energy so eery.
Gustaf, the kitten that did not come in last night, in the periphery of my dream.
This man incessantly stabbing someone in a bed.
When I reawaken at 5:30 AM it is vivid, all parts remembered.
As I reach to pet my black cat at the foot of the bed, the dream escapes me.
I get up into my time of the day, on rare occasion another may be up.
My job of greeting the day begins; most days it is my time of utter peace,
despite the activity of brewing coffee, making granola or yoga tea, stepping out onto the morning grass to take the compost out, greet the cats, feed the cats,
Sit and breathe the peace of solitude, which I sip in with my morning coffee.IMG_1253

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