In the Darkest Hours
62
My footsteps muffled in the darkest
Deserted streets
Fill my consciousness
This dark, dark time
Before the day
Is like another country
A woman in the driveway
By her house
Looking as bewildered as if she
Awoke this morning in Budapest
Eyes me with misgiving
I comfort her with my smile
And good morning
She smiles back
Cars pass sleepily
With seeming reverence
For the quiet
Each stark moment
Dramatically backlit
Begs notice
Reinforces the importance
Of now
In the darkest streets
My footsteps muffled
I am conscious
Of every
One
I get up at about a quarter to five most weekday mornings to make my commute to work in a suburb about fifteen miles from my home. Everywhere, the mood is quiet and subdued, as if mindful that others might be sleeping. In my home it’s true - my family is sleeping. When I go outside at around six o’clock, I find it is also true there. Windows are dark, and streets and sidewalks are all but deserted.
In the solitude of quiet darkness, footsteps seem more special. Without cars to watch out for or fellow pedestrians to consider, footsteps gain importance since they are making the only sound. It becomes easier to acknowledge and savor each footstep when it is so quiet and all the usual distractions are asleep.
It is good practice to notice your footsteps. They are numbered, you know. You only get to take so many. You may as well take notice of them. Enjoy them, if you can. Why not?
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Thank you, Cris. I relish those early hours. They are very special. :)
Beautiful capture Tom. I feel like I should be whispering.
Very beautiful. I like how you capture the calm before the morning.
Lovely! I feel like somebody is watching me in the dark;-)))
Thanks, Randy. :)
Thank you, Nat.
Well, pull down the shade, Thelma! Thank you
This poem captures the early morning perfectly. I love the lines," This dark time, before the day is like another country." I have often felt that way when I am out early in the morning. Well done.
Briliant and has to be warded that up up and away.
Take care
Eddy.
Tom, this is a fantastic poem, perhaps my favorite of all the poems I have read of yours. I had this feeling when I lived in Ireland where the sun did not rise till 10 am in December.
Wow..this poem made me feel like I was there..with you..seeing the lady next door...sleeppy. lovevit..I voted up and awesome.debbie
Is it not the most awesome (almost sacred) time of our 24-hour cycle? As if the cycle had been cleaned of all tension and negativeness, and now fresh again and in anticipation to be grimed with who-knows-what. You have painted with words a pretty perfect picture of this time of the day.
Very interesting Tom..I never thought about counting my footsteps..Loved your poetry..You captured the early morning..
Fantastic imagery! Awesome, beautiful and interesting, definitely up.
I love it when someone can relate so well to my poem, Gypsy.
Thanks, Eiddwen! I'm always made happy when you comment.
JK! Thanks so much!
I'm glad you found my imagery vivid, Debbie, thank you.
Sacred is a good way to describe it, Martie. Or holy, as in 'set aside.' Thank you.
Thank you, Ruby! I never thought of counting my footsteps either, but it is a good idea for mindful walking :)
Thank you, Iva!
Such a beautiful way to start a splended day. After every dark night there is a bright day. Lovely poem.
I like the comparison of the darkest hours to another country where most of the villagers are asleep. :)
Thank you, Kulsum!
There is a feeling that the sleepers are all connected that instills a sense of reverence in me. Thank you, Ms. Ann :)
Wow, the things you must experience in those dark hours of commute. Full of wisdom your poetry is.
Thank you, Senoritaa. In some ways the pre-dawn hours are my favorite time of day.
really cool and nice piece. thanks
Cris A Level 2 Commenter 4 months ago
It's all very visual and moody, almost noirish. I like it very much.