The very first hour before sunrise is the most powerful time of day.

Muscles are loose, at one with the bed sheets.

Lungs expand, like soughing waves on a pebbled beach.

The air is as cool and clear as it’s going to be on this hottest day of summer.

Dreams flutter,

Alternating between the light beat of butterfly wings

And the powerful downward stroke of a hawk

Pushing its way above early morning mist.

The sunrise yawns pink, then tangerine.

Its jaw cracks with the irresistible desire of a new day.

Be still, anon.

For now I rest.

The first hour before sunrise strokes with dark indigo hands,

Soothes heated wakefulness and draws me down,

Cool in the deep languor of dreams and creativity.

© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2018)