The wistfulness of lying awake & seeing the world enliven around you. The lightening of the violet-blue sky into the foggy slate of a rainy winter morning.
The trembling branches heavy with water & shaking off a spatter of drops with a shiver of wind. The dark branches cracking the sky behind the double lattice of window screen & window pane.
The tinny warm noise of the radio near you that seems to mirror the weak familiar street lamps fading in the dawn. A pop song you’d laugh at in the bright day suddenly hopeful & vulnerable, like those fluorescent lights that have held back the shadows all night. A passing car muttering to itself as it leaves for errands work travel.
Looking down & into the world at the height of two stories and feeling everything is so fragile so fragile & in this moment you’re safe & your heart is open & the world is finally catching up to you, the one up since 2am waiting for some strange permission to be up & about like a normal person. You feel the static of your thoughts fill with the morning & you say to yourself remember this remember.
Your mind tries to obey & shows you other mornings like this, mornings you hadn’t even tried to keep for the future. Christmas mornings when the light on the ceiling reflected off of the blue-white of the snow outside; dark fall mornings in your grandmother’s house as she made coffee in a kitchen that seemed in another world & you contemplated dressing in the dark; hazy amber mornings where you stared at the mysteries of the townhouse parking lot & forgot what you did to yourself hours ago with a bottle of vodka & a pocketknife. No no, you gently protest against the images, remember this morning outside the windows.
& as you try to redirect, as you try to make room in your heart for a shining puddle, a dark window breathing pale curtains, the pleasurable luxury of this bed & this moment to yourself, you forget to hold onto the waking world & drift into sleep.