Thanksgiving Morning

2:30 AM EST.
Cold for Florida. In the 50s. High tomorrow back to 70+.
Its quiet at this time. Dark. Serene.
My eyelids feel heavy. Sleep will come easily. Still, I resist.
Its a special time, the "wee" hours of the morning.
My time. Not to do, just to be.
Sleep will be restful and recuperative.
Daytime will be full of chores and duties and responsibilities.
But this time is just to let thoughts wander, to feel the silence, to breathe and remember the unity of all life.
Some people think they are not spiritual. They think they don't believe anything. They think they don't or can't pray.
But I wonder: do they ever allow themselves to be up, alone, and still at 2:30 in the morning? Do they ever just experience the chill? Do they notice the depth and richness of the silence? Do they feel the air molding to their form? Do they look out the window and see more than objects and shadows?
If so, my guess is that they are in sublime communion with the infinitely Sacred. They may or may not name it; but is the experience any less profound?
2:30 Thanksgiving morning. I wish the magic of the moment for all people.