Photo by Ben Weinberg- Madrid dawn August 2017

Felt like a short night with morning all to soon.

Somewhere out there a lonely dog howls out his blues, singing mournful tunes.

The moon has packed it in and left the scene, giving up as day encroaches on her patch.

The sky hangs between grey and blue, unwilling to commit too soon.

Stillness rules the hour, so much that I leave my coffee cooling at my side, all is waiting, caught between. The lamp beside me pales and fades, relinquishing its power.

Outside shadows slip further back as surfaces ascend. Day, their time of dominance.

The cracks night opened will all be filled and mystery retreats.

It is a passion play this shift from dark to light, night to day. So old it’s become habit, mere routine, commonplace, taken for granted. And yet, this simple shift, as we whirl and spin, turns us inward to the light and then out to the infinite dark face then back again.

The universe revealed, then cloaked in light, then revealed again.

Writer, walker, poet, educator. Commercial fisherman, builder, donut maker, organic grower. Boston, U. City, Maine, South Africa, Madrid.

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