Analysis of Twilight Morning

On a cold, twilight morning
surrounded by forest as far as I can see,
I wait patiently for the sun to rise.

Silhouettes of distant trees
poised on mountain tops,
slowly come into view, faintly backlit
by the promise of a new day.

Wrapped in a blanket, I am,
keeping my body’s warmth contained within,
past calories ingested, now fueling
my internal fire.

In the distance, a couple birds,
through their morning calls,
let others know they survived the night,
escaping the great-horned owl that patrols these forests.

Half-moon hangs in the western sky
reflecting light from the sun, still hidden
behind mountains and far-flung horizons.

Another thirty minutes or so
before Helios illuminates the striated clouds
with pastel pinks and blues.

So quiet now, as if the earth herself
is still in drowsy slumber.
A mystical time, betwixt night and day,
growing slowly into wakefulness.

Nocturnal creatures now begin their respite
in hollow tree, burrow or den,
while others, aware of renewed existence,
revel in the breaking dawn.

Cold air, warmed somewhat
in nasal passages, fills my lungs with
life-giving sustenance.

I breathe deeply.
It’s a good day to be alive!