*This is a little piece about a very early morning/very late night walk that I took not too long ago*
The cold dawn was a delight,
The wincing dog a fright.
The emptiness of the land made it tranquil,
yet sudden bursts of noise proved it fragile.
The sharpness in the air was fresh and crisp,
the dewdrops on the leaf edge's looked they wanted to leap and take a risk.
The orange streetlights stood majestically tall,
But they knew that at sunrise, their reign would fall.
The newspaper boy with his bundles cycled hard,
as the white haired figure stretched himself quietly on the yard.
At the distance, the pinkish orange hue rears its gorgeous head,
the young woman rolled around playfully and went back to bed.
The few stars that one could see, slowly faded out,
the frail radio produced white noise, as if it were still in doubt.
Everything at this hour appeared to be aware of its impermanence,
The moments seemed unafraid of the future tense.