An Early Morning in December
by Michael Escoubas

It is that time of day
before the lazy sun
finds its way above the tree line.
Overnight
a dusting of fresh snow
has decorated the town
with light, feathery touches,
naked trees, street lamps, window sills,
and the peaks of shingled rooftops
prepare to sparkle when the sun gets up.
Streets are so quiet they seem to whisper
so as not to wake the dead …
… still in bed …
no horns, no police sirens …
only an occasional barking dog
disturbs the twilight calm,
and even that noise respects
the coming dawn. In this moment,
I pause … take a breath … and consider … happiness.  

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