The fleet of feathers leave wakes,

streaks of white waves

against the black surface rippled

with wind. The sun rises over the hill,

giving light to color and form,

warmth to the edges of night,

a welcome contrast,

the waking of dawn.

The gift of a sleepless night lies

in the emergence of light and life.

What once was dark and indistinguishable

is now layered with sight and sound.

To participate, to witness, and to know,

before the bugle, before the bell,

there were the birds,

and that first sliver of light

that announced the day.

On morning watch,

a stillness claims the surface

as the clouds come in and all is quiet again.