Morning has broken

 Early morning.6:00. The soft light before the dawn. Everything seems clean and in place. And quiet, oh so quiet. The sound of the soft wind in the treetops and the quawks of the two jays that woke you up in the first place. Like a persistant wake of the nature, those two could make dead men walk. The absence of other sounds of civilisation is a blessing. The harbour is still, the road empty and the streets seem abandoned. Every single person is far away in his sleep or in the middle of his rush to wherever he intended to go waking up so early. Nobody thinks of you and you think of nobody.
The smell of the cofee is rising from the hot cup you just poured. Bitter and black, it covers your morning breath. A bad attempt, but still. Every sip you take is the best you ever had, and seems like the only one you'll ever enjoy. The air is chilly, you hide under the blanket and watch the world stand still. Only the clouds are slowly gliding trough the landscape. It might rain later today. But now it still seems to be a preety nice morning.
Soon, too soon, your cup is empty, you're feeling cold and somewhere in the world an alarm clock is going off. It's time to get back to the world. And in the second you're up on your feet again it seems like the time has started running again, faster. And you know that those few morning moments will be the best of your coming day. But you had them and you know they are there for the rest of our life, for every single day when it seems you can't get back to sleep.

It must be the best part of the day.