I come to this place to hide,
to escape the mundane
& to hear songbirds
singing versions
of the same
happy songs,
waiting merrily
for the coming
of the sun.

O, that glorious sun,
that golden orb
does rise again,
to shine on all of us
& everything we,
we take for granted,
like the sunrise.

I come to this place to hide,
to hide from the mundane
& to listen to beautiful music,
emanating
from the sacred-beaks
of winged creatures,
humming happily
for the rising
of the warm sun.