Crepuscular Garden

Listen carefully. I want to tell you how to find it, the exact moment between the night and the dawn. The moment in which everything before is dark and everything after is day. A moment when everything stops. A space gap between which is either nothing at all, or where everything is possible.
First you must get up at 3 AM. Go quietly through the hall to the patio door. Unlock the latch with quiet fingers and move out in to the wonderful world of night. Stand for a moment, motionless, on the edge of the lawn, in awe of the fresh, clear purity of the air. The world of man is shut up inside, asleep. There is nothing but beauty. A bright crescent moon floats in the cloudless sky giving a solemn half-light to the yard. Notice that the flowers are awake, and the cool air is saturated with scent. An owl in the woods calls now and again. Woo...woo…wooooooo. There in front of you is the garden bench, over there the rose bushes, and on the path a pansy dropped the day before, looking strange and holy, as though gods walked here and spirits watched.
Go down side of the yard toward the locust grove, brushing against some lilac branches bending down with dew. The trees rise in front of you against the now steely blue of the changing sky. Blossoms on the shrubs are bright splashes of magenta amongst greys, and faint pearly whites of the day soon to be born. Hear the trees speak through line of limb, leaf rustle, and branch scrape and squeak. Feel the rise of the morning breeze.
Wander then down the grassy path beside the row of hemlocks shedding deep black shadows. To the east. beyond the garden house, which appears now as an ancient temple, see, on the horizon, a solemn glow is burning. Sit down to wait, feet soaked with dew. Remember that day after day while you are asleep, but this happens...... every day.
Quietly watching, watching. But what is this now? A subtle change. It seems that just now is between the in-breath and the out-breath. Quiet reigns, for a moment or is it for all time? This watershed: all before is known, and all, just now, is unknown. And then, the birds begin their morning clatter and chirp.