“Without birds, where would we have learned that there can be song in the heart?”
― Hal Borland

The strident, staccato beeping
Of the alarm clock
Too near to my ear
Awakens me in the predawn hours
From the sweetest dream,
And I am not
A morning person.
As I lay there grumpily
In the dark,
Cursing the need
To rise so early,
I become aware
Of Nature's music
Coming from the woods
Behind my house.
The birds are already awake
And singing joyfully
As the new day approaches.
From the overgrown azalea bush
On the other side
Of the bedroom window
I hear the muted cheeping
Of a nest of
Hungry chicks
And I am struck
By the beauty that had begun
While I slept.
As I lay in the darkness
My mood morphs
From grouchy resignation
To one of peaceful
Anticipation.
How can a day
That begins with
Such simple pleasure
Be the same one I'd dreaded
Just moments ago?

c. 2023