Four In The Morning

That song by Prefab Sprout? You give me Faron Young Four in the Morning. An ear worm they call it, has been for 30 year now.

4 am, chameleon time, it can be anything but always magnetic with its lamplight hue. An all too momentary passing as the ordinary takes on an ethereal sheen and life's reticent smile reveals itself from out of the dark. Four in the morning soaks the river with a princely malt. Feathery trills and the tranquil air gather and transcend the subtle into grandiose. It's the virgin dew of a new day or the gratifying twinkle of a lucky night. Not that lucky you aren't walking home alone  through its caressing touch though, acquainting yourself again with this elusive yet  omnipresent hour.

It was around this time I used to see Taddy on Wakefield Road on the corner of the bend near the Moldgreen Junction leaning on the barrier casting his eye to the opposite side of the road calling me.  I  never asked why or what. Instead we talked, laughed and earnestly discussed the now and the days to come whilst picking the morsels from our immense past. Strange days indeed he always said but he wrapped his sadness with thoughtful  comedic wit and capable measured acceptance of it all. Maybe a good hour used to pass as the 4 am twilight hour augmented the sheer fun of such a  happy collision.

This beautiful  whispish  and fleeting hour  comes and then it goes . This time it isn't coming back. Rest easy at least my friend if peace is still impossible for you. You were my Four in the Morning.

M