Where are we at Three AM

I woke up this morning and it was 3:35AM.

At three AM, the thoughts don't race through the mind. They branch out like limbs from a tree. Each branch leaves another thought to think about. Thinking keeps me from sleeping, and the clocks just ticks. Things to do, people to see, places to go.  All these things come to mind at three AM. Putting clothes on, the mind is wide awake.

I was in the month of April while walking between the computer and kitchen... Hopkinton, the Stone house, the Marathon; as the coffee dripped into the pot. In the silence of the morning, I could hear the Stone house around me. Pre dawn before the Marathon. The erie calm before the race. For that  moment, for the fleeting moment in time, you could hear the 1800's on that majestic peaceful property; before planes, cars and traffic. Only the breeze weaving its way through the leaves on the trees could be heard. I was there, enveloped in a warmth of being and calm. Being sheltered from any noise that could be happening at 3AM, I'm back to that moment at the Stone house. The warmth and the calm are here at 3AM.

By 4, I'm making coffee and slicing up an apple. Yesterday the neighbor cut down the old black walnut tree on the property line.  As I finish peeling the apple skins onto a small section of paper towel, I place the apple on a wooden cutting board and think about trees. The knife, forged from fires of great intensity; sitting next to the apple on the cutting board. All surrounded in the Hopkinton silence before the Marathon.

Each year I listen to the squirrels chewing the thick pungent green coating off the black walnuts to  get inside. That will be silent next year. The bat box that hung on the tree drove my curiosity for years, now lies approachable in the neighbors driveway. I know how it got there. Everything comes to an end, but I didn't see it even though, I saw it coming. The noise of the smoky chain saw binding up  every time as the defiant old tree fought its second to last battle against nature. Now, only the decay of the roots will be its last stand. Carbon, carbon steel and forged fires.

Its 5 now, is it the beginning of the end?  The end of the silence or the beginning of the race to meet the end? I wonder, the clock still ticking. Each click another second has passed.