In the wee, small hours of the morning

For some time now I have meant to make a note about the rare and quiet hours of the early morning that seem to shape the remainder of my day. Something about getting up before the sun and witnessing the start of a new day does something to you. Something good. There is an inexplicable calm that belongs to those who roll out of bed and saturate themselves in a sunrise. I realize that the thought of rising at 5am is nauseating to some, and that my previous phrases are laughable. For many, my affection for the dawn has the same meaning as a sonnet on the ears of a recently heartbroken adolescent; inflated and utterly false. For me, however, the "wee, small hours of the morning," when spent well, always have a way of getting me off on the right foot. Now before I paint myself a an early-rising morning person, I must clarify that I have not yet mastered the art of getting up early every day. I try as hard as I can to repeat the invigorating habit, but I still sleep through my alarm, and often justify a "few more minutes"(aka hours) of rest. On days when I have responded to the 5am call of my alarm clock I've never regretted it. If you haven't tried getting up early on purpose for a while, give it a go and just see if the rest of your day isn't better for it.