Post-Sleep Scribbles

5am, Winter '08

I woke up today with the moon at my side and chirping beneath tousled layers flecked with morning. I turned effortlessly in and out of a dream; into waves of plush cotton that cascaded over tired bones. My reality became guided by a glowing punch of light; like a lighthouse peering out from the rolling fog off of the sea.

The morning bells chimed softly as if an echo of a lullaby- being sung from miles away. They sang until hushed by the breath of myriad shades of grey, swirling in the cold air exchanging itself with the warmth in my room; They drew in morning, pushing from cloudless skies, inside my window, and over all that surrounded me.

What didn't fill my breath, rapped insistently on the pains of glass that kept me from falling; And even with my body secure in bed, I felt the weight of gravity from heady dreamy leftovers; Of dawn and hours thereafter spent adventuring behind eyes pressed softly closed.

Alarm calls came again. Louder. More klezmer than lullaby, as reality shone between the batting of leaden lashes.

Together with the inspiring thoughts of yesterday's randomly collected gifts, and the ritualistic symphony of another day, I rose to the beckoning of the day to draw rainbows on the moments that unfolded by the minute.

And through the steam pluming from a paper cup, and parallel concrete lines that were whispering to me from all sides, the sky spilled light from behind the shadows, and the city came to life...