Awake Before the Birds

The next morning, Winnie awoke to the sound of silence.

The air, still.

As if waiting for permission to breathe.

A world, frozen.

Only to be thawed by Winnie's newly conscious presence.

She didn't intend to wake before the birds.

Yet here she lies, resting in the pieces of tranquility before the life of day begins anew.

Swaddled by her sheets in a way that makes her miss her mother.

Pinned by the first rays of the sun.

Motionless.

Not yet existing.

Is this peace?

No people, no worries, not yet any intentions or ideas.

Swallowed by her mattress.

Free-floating in a nothingness that is somehow everything.

Is this freedom?