at five ’til six in the city, nothing stirs save my resistance.
this time of year, i’m greeted by the full moon – begging me to believe it’s light enough to be morning, reminding me of the season, and the stillness.
i don’t run fast, or far, or in the right clothes, but i’ve learned to enjoy the hour, the cold. the simple act of get up and go seems to add momentum to my day, shake the cobwebs, and grant space to what is stirring in me.
only at daybreak can i track the growth of the park’s newest saplings, fighting to grow as their neighbors have for so long.
only at daybreak do i notice the consistency of nashville’s bus drivers, before a difficult commuter or traffic jam has thrown their schedule. they encourage my drive.
i share a camaraderie with the few who grace the streets. the neighborhood dogs who answer only to the neighborhood, the caned old man shuffling as he sings, the real runner racing by with a watch and a goal. we share a smile. they know the morning.
sometimes i meet a friend for part of the run, and we share a few sleepy words. it’s nice to know someone is waiting for me a mile in, up that hill i hate, with a smile and a joke. but often i run alone, respecting the silence of the hour. surprised later when my voice doesn’t work, though i’ve been up so long.
it only takes half an hour. to set up my day with such peace and consistency.
when i emerge again from my cozy home, i share a secret with the sun.
“i’ve seen what you look like when you roll out of bed,” i tell her.
“and it’s beautiful.”
good morning. in every way.