Sunday, April 18, 2010

A Sinister Morning

      At 4am, just before bed, I entered a morning perhaps sinister, though not gloomy, perhaps menacing, though not sad. After a day of relative ease, I decided to end with a cigarette and mug of Brazilian evening tea. Unexpected, however, was the fog laden morning I soon found before me. The streetlights glowed yellow and the trees, though expectant of Spring, knew leaves not yet; instead their branches jutted bare like broken swords, unfriendly and austere. But the morning was undecided, and knew not whether to emerge evil or amicable. In partnership with the darker elements it did proffer, were the morning birds and their sweet chirp. At first sparse, their sounds left me only wanting more; and as my desire fulfilled, the morning and I grew more in accord. At last its visage showed nothing worse than mystery, not any hidden threat; and as I dragged the cigarette I rolled, then expelled my contribution to the early fog, a sense of wonder grew within me. My thoughts roamed to ancient man in my position, amid the fog but less knowing. Would it be fearful to him? Without modern images, what is a densely fogged night? Is it the mantle of some goddess, or the oily smoke of war? I knew not. My cigarette was done now, ready for tea was I; and happy to find its temperature somewhat slaked by chilling mist, which now surrounded on all sides, my first warming gulp took I. Before me I spotted wet accumulations, water gathered just to fall, too weak to bear its weight; and across the way, objects earlier plain to see had been pulled with greed into the mist. This revealed something new. Perhaps the fog was not so friendly; it would not maul or bite at once, but one should not recline in ease amidst it. And the birds -- their chirping was now everywhere -- but was it calling in the sun? or were the creatures not themselves? Things trembled in the grass unseen. The birds, it's possible, were diseased. Their hearts had blackened, and together they conspired. This morning, after all, was cruel and hungry, and the birds its siren call.