Tenor of the Dawn Chorus

High above the everything
of everything, the birds are
awake and they want you
to know how it feels. Every

day the sun comes up again.
Every day the trees are still
there when the light is ready
to clothe them in a decadence

of existence, and they can’t
help but be the embodiment
of joy. Who knew the light
would return? Who knew

the night-confinement of canopy
was not the end and beginning
of everything? They stand above
in the tallest oak looking down
on the earth in awe. Each tiny foot

itching to be part of it all;
singing to a farsighted sun: is
it possible for this to be real.

Author's Note

2019