Tuesday, April 02, 2002
five a.m.
I was up at five this morning for my second day of rowing practice. Being awake so early these past two days has been a revelation for me. The pace of the whole day changes. The silence of the still-sleeping house – the creak of the floor, the hum of the refrigerator – suggests a conspiracy between just you and the morning, as the mood is laid for the day to come.
This morning in particular was a spectacle worth getting out of bed for – soft and clear and golden, the rosy eastern horizon lighting up to an ice blue sky, reflected deep and sparkling on the lazy morning river. The day awakens drowsily, stretches, greets the birds, greets you. You are part of a world re-born, another day alive, anything is possible.
¶ 4/02/2002 09:31:00 AM
I was up at five this morning for my second day of rowing practice. Being awake so early these past two days has been a revelation for me. The pace of the whole day changes. The silence of the still-sleeping house – the creak of the floor, the hum of the refrigerator – suggests a conspiracy between just you and the morning, as the mood is laid for the day to come.
This morning in particular was a spectacle worth getting out of bed for – soft and clear and golden, the rosy eastern horizon lighting up to an ice blue sky, reflected deep and sparkling on the lazy morning river. The day awakens drowsily, stretches, greets the birds, greets you. You are part of a world re-born, another day alive, anything is possible.
¶ 4/02/2002 09:31:00 AM
