Getting Up EarlyThe small but pleasing memory that jogged this morning took me back to 1979, back when I used to check in each morning with Garry Trudeau.
by Anne Porter
Just as the night was fading
Into the dusk of morning
When the air was cool as water
When the town was quiet
And I could hear the sea
I caught sight of the moon
No higher than the roof-tops
Our neighbor the moon
An hour before the sunrise
She glowed with her own sunrise
Gold in the grey of morning
World without town or forest
Without wars or sorrows
She paused between two trees
And it was as if in secret
Not wanting to be seen
She chose to visit us
So early in the morning.
Oh, wow, indeed. Aren't words fun? They're really good at pinning, though not quite replicating, experiences and memories. They're time travelers, they're our time machines. But don't ask me what time is.
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