Indistinguishable Hour

The beauty of five AM
on an English summer day
is that it is an
indistinguishable hour;
one too early
and too late
and too beautiful
in its bird songs
and cornflower skies,
its lingering notes
and still-running trains
carrying angels
towards panes of gold,
where body meets body
and wit meets wit,
all to slowly collapse
into a final stillness
marked only
by the movement of clouds.