What a chill touch
Madame Morning has,
But what lovely chords struck by my muse: the robin, or, the effervescent chickadee!
And look, over by the birch tree,
A charcoal fox prances in dappled light,
While raven wing darts between a delicate line of sight.
What fervor portrayed in the trembling day!
How subtle is the music sung by broken silence,
For within the beating chest of the Morn’ there lies a precious balance,
Between those that sleep, the precarious quiet, and-
The gentle sun, praising the awakened chickadee!
The brave amber breasted robin!
They sing for me amongst budding greens, and rest upon a window sill,
Reminding me once again:
Mine lady of the woods
has beauty wherever one may look!
I woke up this morning to bird song, a fox outside, and the sun on my face- it was so pleasant I had to write about it. You never know how much you missed birds until they leave for the winter!