curious mornings

By no means am I a morning person. Anyone that knows me has probably witnessed the fact that I take quite awhile to shake off drowsiness, which comes in the form of being slow to rise and grumpy upon waking. The Proverbs are filled with practical wisdom; one of my favorites is found in 27:14, “If a man loudly blesses his neighbor early in the morning, it will be taken as a curse.” I recall sharing this with my roommate my freshman year, hoping that he may glean something from this Biblical caveat.
As much as I may appear to despise the morning, I actually really like it. So far as I have shifted the hours that I work I have enjoyed greeting the start of a new day. I find that the sun is somewhat like me—it is not an instant riser—it takes its time. Or is it that it wishes to be respectful, to not be so abrupt in urging us out of our slumber?
There is nothing like the crispness of the dawn air; somehow it renews me as it fills my lungs with its purity, unadulterated by the flurry of busyness of the day. There is also a sense of wonder and curiousness as I see color restored as shadows are lifted. It is as if secrets are whispered for all to hear and yet I find myself among the few that are fortunate enough to be up and hear it. What is the secret though?
It is a curious feeling, one that you wish you could share with more. Yet, most of the time when we are up before the sun, we have busied ourselves excessively ALREADY to the point that the purity of the dawn air simply fills our lungs rather than actually permeating our being. The beauty in the way that the mystique of the morning lingers unexplained is so expansive that it is new each day and why lovers draw closer, for they have shared in an eternally ephemeral masterpiece that is theirs to keep.