Mornings Post Night Shift
The day greets me as my polished boots
Make contact with the stiff, frosted grass.
No rays of sun have emerged from their resting place
Behind the blue mountain peaks.
Not a bird sings. The only noteable movement
Comes from smoke drifting carelessly from chimney tops.
Is it peace? Is it serenity?
In my mind, I can only observe the air that sits between houses and landmarks.
Nothing occupies the scene before me but space.
Space between the steam of my breath and the glow of light
From the window of a house across the way.
Space between the cold-hardened rubber soles of my boots
And the welcoming warmth that will soon greet the nearly-numb tips of my fingers.
Space between the detailed conscious realitiy in which I am currently present
And the chugging locomotive that will soon carry my mind to dreamland.
Space between the unrelenting hell that I just endured
And the warm kisses and fur of my best friend who anxiously awaits my return.
In these moments it seems that the earth turns slower
Than the thoughts and memories in my mind.
I breath in the stillness in desperate hope that it will calm my troubled soul,
If only for a little while.
If only my mind could match the scene before me
And become just a little more