Early morning silence creeps into my noisy noiseless sleep
the stillness visible through slowly awakening eyes
that saw an alternate existence while closed.
Hazy as it drifts away,
dispersing in the muted sun light.
Fresh wounds from the night before
and beg attention.
And are ignored,
for this morning belongs to the quietness
and the birds
and the rustle of the falling leaves
going about their ante meridiem business.
Clarity of reflection is afforded,
uninterrupted by the sounds of your own voice.
The expanse of the impending day
laid out before you,
taking shape like
slow lemniscate structures swirling
cream against the earth
integrating itself into the whole.