Muted

It's 4:30.
The deadest hour of the night.
The dogs stop howling.
The mosquitoes seem stunned, even.
Stunned enough to let one soak in the beauty that is 4thereabouts.

At 4:30, all i am faced with and faced by is the low hum of the computer.
Somehow, that seems muted too.
As the world sleeps its sleepiest sleep, a trickle of customised sunshine, or is it moonshine, falls on my eyes; making me close my eyes and bask in its warmth.

The most i manage to do is nod my head, and utter Wahs from the corner of my mouth.
And feel warm all over again.
Is it daybreak,
or,
is it Kishori making day break with Lalit?

I care not, for the tanpura fills my head.
Leaving me hoping for a better day.