The Early Hours
While
darkness hangs
Heavy on the lighted sill,
A cacophony of chirps
Salute the early streaking of the sun.
Two beady eyes blink open
Into a quiet peaceful gaze,
And soft blankets rustle in the stillness--
Not ready yet to sound the morning
With a cry or wail or whimper.
Yours is a gentle, slow anticipation
Heavy on the lighted sill,
A cacophony of chirps
Salute the early streaking of the sun.
Two beady eyes blink open
Into a quiet peaceful gaze,
And soft blankets rustle in the stillness--
Not ready yet to sound the morning
With a cry or wail or whimper.
Yours is a gentle, slow anticipation
A
pondering,
Hesitation.
And then a flap of arms
And thudding of twinned feet.
With a resounding creak of the door
A sliver of pale light creeps in
And accepts that it is day.
Mine is the joyful jolt of arms
And flutter of feet
The first beaming grin of dawn
Satisfied sigh
And nuzzling at the cages of my frame.
The fabric of night is pushed aside
And door widened open
Unearthing the fragrant scent of seaspray
Heavy with the morning dew
And lingering in the air.
With cool crispness
Between our toes,
Ours in the morning
As we welcome in aurora's light.
Hesitation.
And then a flap of arms
And thudding of twinned feet.
With a resounding creak of the door
A sliver of pale light creeps in
And accepts that it is day.
Mine is the joyful jolt of arms
And flutter of feet
The first beaming grin of dawn
Satisfied sigh
And nuzzling at the cages of my frame.
The fabric of night is pushed aside
And door widened open
Unearthing the fragrant scent of seaspray
Heavy with the morning dew
And lingering in the air.
With cool crispness
Between our toes,
Ours in the morning
As we welcome in aurora's light.
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