Noisy zips in cool mountain morning air,
open at last, I rise to stand and stare.
Eyes open slowly to such a fine view,
barely awake now, I hike to the loo.
This alpine world, strangely silent at 5,
stopping to listen, as it comes alive.
Gravel crunches softly, ‘neath weary feet,
down by Og Lake, I take a front row seat.
From perch high atop rock, covered with dew,
I watch dawn paint all with a rosy hue.
Sweet birdsong rings out from every tree
rising up slowly to cacophony.
Pink cotton candy clouds fill Eastern skies,
a rosy reward for my early rise.