52and39/31 Morning Pages

I love the first hour of full light on a summer morning.

It seems a secret time when anything is possible; when birds are busy and a handful of people quietly share the world with more space and air between than is normal.

I wish I could stop the clock and sit holding a mug of coffee at my chin, knees pulled into my chest.  I like staring through a window, waking slowly as the gears of the day slot one into the other, pulling tiny seconds methodically away from night.