When Gifted an Early Morning

When gifted an early morning,
when something wakes you, holds you
in its pre-dawn hand and will not let you go,
here is what it’s not—
it is not for getting a jump on the day.
It is not for ticking more off the list,
for squeezing more in, wringing more out
of your already spoken-for day.

When gifted an early morning
it is for taking in the dawn chorus,
seeing what it means to wake alive and expectant.
It is for noticing the birdsong fall away
and the sky lighten.
It is for seeing the first flush of light
on the underside of clouds, for seeing them
pink and blush and bruise mauve,
fall away and grey again.

It is for watching the birds shift gear,
to watch them feeding and preening,
it is for noting that rosellas, landing,
wings outstretched in bare trees,
look like crosses pinned to a drop of lacy shawl.
It is for noticing the second flush of sunrise,
the sun cresting the hill,
the clouds warmed and golden.
When gifted an early morning
let this be what it’s for.