What exultant trill sounds forth at break of day to stir my shallow sleep

from downy head and pointed beak the cries of mysteries deep

And feathered breast dost rise and fall propelling powerful song

his joyful call belies his tiny size, ’tis sounded loud and long.

What thought employs the mind of birds in gathered chorus line

as from their throats pour sounds as sweet as summer’s finest wine

Hear they the glory and the call of sacred unknown muse

or does this beauty cast so wide exist to spread the news

Fresh worms, a cat, three houses down the flagpole on the right

my nest is here so keep away or you’ll expect a fight.

My lady friend and I have stayed and made this place our home

Til winter’s chill and children’s flight at last will make us roam.

Or do they sing a deeper song of longing joy and fears

as tender beauty sounded there brings human eyes to tears

for deep inside the mind of birds may burn a glorious glow

creators fiery gift is cradled there to melt the coming snow.

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