The first light arrives quietly. Not the sunrise — that comes later, noisier, with colour. I mean the earlier thing: the moment when the dark thins enough to separate a branch from the sky behind it.
The birds know this moment. Whatever they were doing in the dark (sleeping, presumably, though it’s strange to imagine), they stop at this threshold and begin something else. A different kind of presence.
I have been waking early this week to watch the light from the terrace. Not for any productive reason — just to be there at the threshold, before the day makes its claims. There’s a quality of attention available at 5 that isn’t available later. The mind is still loose from sleep. The light is doing something genuinely interesting. And there’s no one asking anything of you yet.
The koel starts before the light does. It starts before anything seems ready. And then by the time the light has properly arrived, the whole sky is full.