It is a grey day...

It is a grey day
A day for coffee
although, no morning is complete without coffee.
The baby is asleep, his breath soft and comforting
and all around me is silence, peace.
Like the premature hours when the only signs of life are the stray headlights of either the habitually nocturnal, or the early risers;
and like that fleeting in-between time, this stillness isn't meant to last.
The baby will wake, the preschooler will return home
both will demand things
and life will resume its normal, noisy rhythm