3 a.m. / awake / the owl and I
Coos and cries climb into the night air and I lift into every note. In this birdless winter his presence proves everything and nothing. For an hour I listen until finally, s i l e n c e .
When the king of gods fell in love with a shepherd boy, the king became a large bird and flew down from the heavens to collect the boy. Legend has it that Zeus loved him for his soul and his mind, and thus the boy became the only lover granted immortality. This boy now serves as the cup-bearer forever, a constellation of service and brilliance. For the one born unto this path, may you serve the sweet wine among immortals, soothing and swaying the powerful with the charm of your destiny.
The day begins early because of the owl. I abandon sleep for the mental rehearsal of Monday's events and demands. When he travels, I become wildly efficient – some how driven to keep a one-oared boat going in the right direction.
For days now, the fog impresses with its stubbornness. Though startled after supper by pin pricks of light deep in the sky's heart, the transient glimmer would surrender to the obscurity of misplaced warmth.
Therefore, the predawn hush loved more deeply than a heart deserves.