I love the gray of morning, before the dawn fully ascends into the day.
It is that in-between place of light and dark and quiet.
It is the place where dreams melt into the background or pound your heart with its secret message.
Gray is the moment between the knowing and the longing.
It is the place of swept up feelings, decisions of what the day will be.
Inevitabilities that cannot be stopped.
I linger here in bed, assimilating the conscious, organizing the routine of the day, but all the while wishing it would stay gray and immovable. That I could stay in this half-dream state and bask in the pause of morning darkness.
New Sun rises, bleaching my gray to dusty blue.
It is the urging; I must now charge toward the day.
If only it would rain now, if only it would cover me in gray.
I could retreat and rest some more.
Victoria Yeary 7:30 AM March 18, 2013
PostScript: It began raining on my pandora music tunes- sadly, not the same!