(After getting up for no fucking reason way before dawn.)
(Picture credits: Creative Commons Share Alike/Attribution Susanne Nilsson “Flying at Dawn”)
birdsong
the slam poetry of morning
the gory glory of worm and moth
the sacred responsibility of nesting
and that one moment before dawn,
when the sun and the moon and the stars share the same sky
with birds of blood and feather and hollow bone,
when sun and song and darkness become one,
when lightness infuses our earthbound skeletons
to open our minds and lift our hearts
to poetry, to prayer, and
birdsong