Crisp Dawn

Rise early,
the shadows whisper.

Eyes fogged,
throat raspy,
but rise early.

Sitting cold,
awake barely,
but sitting here,
seeing dawn.

Tendrils inky,
violet and fire,
streaking brilliance,
promising day.

Nothing feels real,
not yet,
but soon…

Groggy wakening,
transforms to awareness.
Moon falls,
Sun climbs,
and time shifts.

Another day.

Once more,
turning we go,
spinning wildly,
careening violently,
movement not felt,
but seen,
remembered barely,
in dying daylight.