There’s something about morning, the way

it creeps in, then settles here in its incarnation

as day. It’s not clear why it comes; it’s not

clear what it needs. It’s just clear that it comes

every day on a schedule. Morning is its own kind

of gift – not from God, not from a god. Just a gift.

I long for it; I open my eyes hoping for it, knowing

it will come as it has every day. There’s something

about morning. It kisses nighttime, collects its dew,

then rests here like an old friend settling in for a

long chat. Some days I reject it and return to my

slumber, but most days I embrace it and know it’s

beauty as day. There’s something about morning.


One thought on “Morning
  1. Beautiful description of morning. thank you Professor.

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