Silent Charm

There is a certain kind of silence in the early morning hours that charms me. A silence that whispers, "Here it comes. It's all yours for the taking." It's a hush that rises on the steam coming from my cup. It builds and swirls like a Copland piece.

I can be a night owl, but there's something about early morning hours that sings my song the loudest, in a voice that only I can hear.

I hear the sweet gurgle of the coffee maker and breathe in the scent of brewing bean. My thought is, "So far today, everything is right with my world."

There is nothing like a beginning. Nothing like a blank canvas. Nothing pulls like promise.

I get up and pull on my fleecy bathrobe. I splash water on my face - always cold because I love the shocky feeling. I don't bother brushing my hair just yet, I like frowzy. I fill up my cup with that deep dark murky beauty. I bring it to my face and inhale. The steam caresses my cheeks; the scent envelopes me. I look out the window into the pale dark and whisper, "Welcome."

So it begins.

So it begins.

In a charmed silence it begins.