Contemplation and a Break

Winter Contemplation

 

Every once in a while we need to just sit back and think. Or not think, as the case may be. Find a quiet, secluded spot, make ourselves comfortable, and contemplate. Perhaps it is our navels, perhaps it is the mysteries of the cosmos, and perhaps it’s just frustration with Edith Crawley’s simpering melodrama — but these large issues need time.

In a city that knows how to keep its secrets, I will be contemplating the answers to life’s persistent questions*, and so will be a little quiet for a bit. In a few weeks, though, I’ll be back in force, never fear.

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* Bonus points if you know the source of my paraphrasing.

Umber Dawn

I wake early, without the alarm,
You still slumber between satin sheets.
I slip from the room,
Look out to a still-dark world,
City towers but a shadow;
A hint of light grows beyond.
Purple tones outline distant peaks,
Far pavilions of Kaye’s wonder,
Deep blues fading to star-specked black,
Cold, at peace, not yet disturbed.
The bay fluoresces, brighter than
The sky it reflects, yet darker still.
Captured, rooted to my window,
Helplessly gazing, heart expanding
With slow breaths to take it in.
Burnt orange spreads, a slender line
Whose limits cannot be discerned,
Yet whose end is within my sight.
No division, no visible change,
Yet colors shift before my eyes,
Sea and sky turning bright,
Though above all is dark.
Gulls call out, challenge the day;
I long to join them,
Their raucous company,
But I stay silent,
As you are silent,
Speaking not a word
Of any weight or meaning.
Helios awaits, the day arrives,
Peaks and towers reveal their mystery.
I am greeted, as you never greet me,
By the umber dawn.

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