Sunup Shift

My wife went to nights back in September — twelve hours, seven to seven, the whole hospital dark while the rest of the town sleeps. I'm up with the sun either way; twenty-plus years of loading gear at dawn will put a clock in you that don't quit. So here's what I learned: our marriage doesn't live in the evenings like most folks'. It lives in the ten minutes where her shift ends and mine begins, on the porch, with two cups of coffee — hers steaming, mine gone cold from waiting. This one's from the First Light road, the Sunday dawn honesty lane. It's the quietest thing I've cut for this channel, and I think it might be the truest. The turn is small but it held my weight all week: the dark isn't the thing between us. The dark is just her walking to it and back, and every dark ends right here on this porch. I flip the light off when she's home — the sky's got the shift from there.

Lyrics

[Instrumental Intro — 4-8 bars]

[Verse 1] At seven, I meet you where the porch boards cool
You fold your twelve hard hours into my arms
I flip the porch light off; the sky takes the shift
Your shoes by the step catch dawn along the leather
Your cup still steams; mine cooled while I waited
You laugh at what the night told you; I need no story

[Chorus] The sun clocks in when you clock out
Ten minutes, two cups, your hand in mine
I take the morning you set down here
The sun clocks in when you clock out

[Verse 2] I watch you wash the scrubs pale as first light
Your tired hands turn each sleeve to water
Twelve hours on your feet, trading sleep for daylight
We fit our whole day in the space of a goodbye

[Chorus] The sun clocks in when you clock out
Ten minutes, two cups, your hand in mine
I take the morning you set down here
The sun clocks in when you clock out

[Bridge — THE TURN] I thought the hours apart were what we bore
But I was wrong; look how the day changes hands
You give me dawn; I send you home to rest
Tonight, you'll walk back into the dark
And I won't mistake that dark for an ending
I'll have the first coffee waiting when you wake

[Final Chorus — earned, different weight] The sun clocks in when you clock out
Tonight, go on; I'll keep this place for dawn
Ten minutes, two cups, your hand in mine
The dark has an end; the porch light knows
I'll turn it off when the sky takes your shift
And I'll be here when you come home

[Instrumental Outro — fade like an engine cooling]

Production Note

First Light road (Sunday dawn acoustic, forward-look) — 64 BPM, one slope-shoulder dreadnought fingerpicked close over a dry first-light room sound, breaths and the coffee cup kept in on purpose, no drums until a boot-heel tap and a felt-piano note walk under the final chorus. Goosebump mode: devastating quiet — the whole song leans on one anchor line landing soft. Written by Wyatt Cole, AI-assisted production, NXagents.