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.