Early in the morning

Early in the morning, at first light, before the cans and bottles man comes rolling down the street, squeaking his dishsoap bottle horn and before the background sounds of moving and building and living commence, I like to get up and steal a few minutes from the waking day.

On my balcony, overlooking colonial rooftops and banana trees, this time of day is nothing but calm; nothing but promise and potential. The early morning breeze blows everything fresh and clear and new and magically, mercifully, my mind is quiet. My cup of tea is warm in my hand and my heart is full with contentment.

If my whole life could be mornings.

Still, it's reassuring to look on as the day is born. As people get out onto the streets to sweep and exercise; as motorcycles begin to whir by; as pots and pans and voices begin to filter in through the windows.

Exuberant, belligerent, demanding, the day begins.