Pre-dawn out in shorts today, and it wasn’t that dark, so was just thinking.
Darkest before the dawn
Like, just before?
Sunlight bursts forth
Spilling down streets slowly peopling
Bends to hug the fields from hedgerow to hedgerow
Colours, which moments earlier, were a thing of memory
Are lit, sparkling and hued
Briefly lent goldenness
While the sun focuses on its accelerating skyclimb
I can understand the logic
Tension highest before the colour explosion
The silence of focus at its most noticeable
Just before the button is pushed
But I’m not buying it.
Not one bit.
Let’s talk the witching hour
When the streets are truly empty
Mist hangs low skulking plough furrows
And halogen pools in the darkness
Anything then is a question
Under milk wood rings in the hills
Spirits drift through shadow and fire
That’s when darkness is
The dead of night
Hope comes not at day’s nadir
But the dawn chorus brings daylight
If not salvation
And the sun will always rise in the morning
Pre-dawn Sloth out.