I wake up early, when it’s dark,

to see the light in the window frame,

to listen to my lover’s heartbeat,

to hear her breathe, to feel the warmth of her on my shoulder,

sometimes I breathe along with her, we are one thing,

being together, always together, for ever together.

I once awoke in fear,

now gratitude, that I came to know love

in my life, before it ends.

I wake up to hear the sounds of our old house,

it’s creaking and sighing, shifting and moaning.

Saying good morning to me.

I wake up early to see the joy of my dog,

when I say, “hey, let’s go to work,” and his eyes shine,

and tail starts going and he rushes to the door.

and then, by the gate, the donkeys and the sheep,

who hear my feet on the floor, who hear the water

running in the sink, who heart the teapot singing,

and come to wait for me, the ballet of nourishing

and nurturing and connection.

I think love appears in the night, like foxes and raccoons,

and shows itself, and dances in the moonlight, and sings

to the angels. And to me.

Which is why,

I wake up early.