Bird Songs

Trees greening,
first flowers
stretching for the sun
just cresting
distant hills.

Painting wispy
lacy clouds,
pink perfection.

There they are again,
the sweet notes
that woke me
from a dreamless dream.

That pulled me fast
from warm cocoon
to windows,
to all possibilities,
to new born breeze.

Its fingers, chill,
caress naked skin.

I thrill
to a nearby robin’s trill,
To a distant
chick-a de, de, de, de.

I am enraptured,
by early morning wonders.

I surrender
to the power,
of this mystic,
magnificent hour,
filled to overflowing,
with spring’s bird songs.


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