Six in the Morning
Six in the morning. February. Coffee.
I stand at the cold porch door and look out on
the brooding sapphire of the foredawn sky
pregnant with deep blue light that pales and shines
toward the horizon, where the tops of trees
like scriptures in an inscrutable alphabet
imprint themselves on the margin of the day.
Stones in the neighboring graveyard
begin to whiten and become distinct;
traffic percolates through nearby streets:
sparrows sing crisp matins in the chill.
There is a gentle splendor in these hours
before the sun blares and commuters rush,
before St. Agnes’ bells ring Angelus.
Yesterday marked the first day in a week
I did not see your face or hear your voice.
by Thomas DeFreitas from Winter in Halifax (Kelsay Books, 2021)
Cover photographer: Josh Hild via Unsplash
Cover design: Shay Culligan