six twenty am.
barest hint of daybreak in the sky above the chimneys
and the morning’s cold with autumn early.
shapes of darkness flutter
by the silhouetted treelines
as bats claim the last of the
moments of the night.
the birds are singing.
standing in the dark to watch the
breaking of the morning
standing in the dawn
to fill your self with silence
the birds are singing loud
filling air with song of morning
filling ears with song of silence
filling soul with twilight blue
of the flutter of the breaking
of the silent-singing morning.
