mornings

At the business networking meeting I attend each week, we were recently talking about what we’ll do when we are allowed to meet up in person again. The group started just before lockdown last year, so we had a few face-to-face meetings before we were obliged to reorganise and meet on Zoom.

Those first few meetings were held over breakfast at a hotel. We’d gather together just before 7am and were usually finished by 9am, though some of us would then order more coffee and continue the conversations. Essentially, though, the meetings took place outside the business day.
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morning and evening

I was out and about before the sun was up this morning and rushing off to the station.

That meant I didn’t have my good camera with me – it’s too heavy for general use – and I didn’t really pause to frame and focus, so the pictures I took of the misty morning in the park are not worth the pixels they’d take to display nor the bytes they need for keeping.
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four-oh-four

Recently, I seem to be waking very early. One morning when I checked the time it was four minutes past four; it occured to me I should be writing a poem with the line “4:04: sleep not found”.

404 error pages

That idea didn’t seem to go anywhere, but here are a few pre-dawn lines:

awake again at 4 am

birdsong weaves around the house;
the chorus swells and fades
in fugal waves of sibilance
to spin a spell that teases out
the softening grey.