Waking Up

All we ever talk of is light—
let there be light, there was light then,

good light—but what I consider
dawn is darker than all that.

So many hours between the day
receding and what we recognize

as morning, the sun cresting
like a wave that won’t break

over us—as if  light were protective,
as if  no hearts were flayed,

no bodies broken on a day
like today. In any film,

the sunrise tells us everything
will be all right. Danger wouldn’t

dare show up now, dragging
its shadow across the screen.

We talk so much of  light, please
let me speak on behalf

of  the good dark. Let us
talk more of how dark

the beginning of a day is.


How Dark the Beginning, by Maggie Smith


Waking up before first light is rarely the problem. Getting up before first light - that's what I struggle with. On the weekend, lying in bed watching dark shapes outside the window gradually resolve into trees is a glorious thing. Certainly no need to turn a light on, and no need to rush it.