In the early morning, as the stars make their way to bed and the sun, yawning, begins his climb into the sky, morning greetings from the faerie folk cut through the dream cobwebs of my sleep. I try to dig down deeper into sleep, attempting to capture some tattered fragment of a dream that might become a blanket to hide under to protect me from their incessant early morning cheerfulness. But, like a determined cat, insisting that it is long past time to get out of bed, the faeries keep prodding me with their wide awake banter.
Unlike humans, faeries tend their flower and vegetable gardens beneath the early morning sky. Wide awake, they are already enjoying their day before even the sun rises from his sleep. I finally succumb to their expectations of the beginning birth of a beautiful morning and stumble from my bed to be reborn like the day.