The alarm wakes me before the sun rises. Working east coast hours I get ready to meet my day. I gather my bible and journal to sit on my patio. I would be cold if I didn’t have slippers and my warm robe.

I flip on the lights so I can see to read, and I also light the candle that is next to my chair. The aroma and flickering flame adds to my pleasure.

The dark sky hovers over the mostly imperceptible hum of the suburbs. I am still groggy so my mind is awkward with the sentences and phrases of the chapter of the morning. I rub my eyes, shake my head and scan the words again.

Ancient words familiar to me, still gleaming with immediate relevance. I look over at my candle to marvel and ponder.

My eyes look up at the sky. Darkness is slowly fading. Where I sit, dawn is not cracking. It spreads like incense.

I turn back to the verse. My communion with scripture in the air of the dawn is not solitary. Fine-tuned to light, birds begin to fly and extemporize. Power poles hold the wires and the wires hold the bird. At least the birds that want to held there, for however long it pleases them.

Chirps
Whistles
Trills
Croaks

The morning birds have things to say to each other. They look far and are not concerned with me.

We early birds are not showy. Colors are not needed before the sun gets involved.

Light gets thicker and the excitement grows. Birds flit and talk speak.

I furrow my soul with the chapters, looking to bring order to my chaos.

I can only imagine what those birds are organizing with each other. My hopes and intentions join the birds as we greet the sun with plans.

I blow out my candle with regret every time.

That light switch I gratefully flipped in the dark fades in the light of day. Get started on the everything—clothes, coffee, and meetings for work. I owe it the gratitude of remembrance.