Dawn Steps Lightly into the Day

Silence quells the bells as dawn sneaks into the space, where darkness reigned supreme. All is hushed and holding back. For something to be assembled. From the dis-membered memories, littering the floor from the day before. Mists slowly spread their pale white tendrils. Down dark dank valleys, too dozy asleep to notice. The trees stand stoically, resigned and watchful. Knowing they only play a silent backdrop role. Their stand-ins and understudies. They've seen it all before anyway! Birds call out, timid and trembling, afraid to be the first solo voice, to breach the heavy quietude, imposed by the dawn chorus chorale. “Too soon, Cock; Too soon,” cluck the bleary-eyed hens, still clinging to dreams, while perched in their drowsy lofts. The sun sneaks a peak over the horizon, hoping that no one will notice. it's up so early, but its game is up! For rays of searchlights have already, breached holes through the gray cloud cover. There are so many memories to recall and reassemble. The echoes of boots on stepping stones. Brooks still murmuring their lullabies. Waves lapping on hushed lake shores. White beaches clad in their nightie gowns. All the alarms in the cottages are holding their breaths, counting down to explode. Dawn takes time to re-member, what dusk dis-membered and unpicked at close of day. Neatly storing them away in its toy box. 'Forgotten' is never a word, for lay of day, or daybreak display. For no day is discarded. No moment is deleted from yesterday— They day is re-assembled and re-built from the dis-membered bits it set aside in the toy box.