So long as I’ve had enough sleep (which is often debateable), I like being up before everyone else, especially on a bright, blue-skied morning. There’s plenty of aural pleasure going, what with the birdsong and the quiet roads, but it’s the light that I especially like, the cleanness of it as the sun rises into the day like an early morning stretch, polishing the leaves and spotlighting the blossom. The gardens are people-free, ruled by birds, their shadows flitting across puddles of sunlight as they hop between branches, and all the shades of green are showcased at their best. At this time of day, the world is full of promise and everything is still achievable. This is the hour of hope.
Monkey by Clive Wesley Dennis