Sweet Songbird

Sweet songbird,

How still you are this morning.

Most days you kiss the dew

From the waking sun,

And sing your soft songs of rebirth

Into her ear.

You whisper the day into existence.

Your song guides tulips from their beds,

Stretching their yellow thin fingers

Through the night-gripped haze.

Your call stirs the recluse,

Prompting her to spin her translucent signs

Of life apart from life.

But today, you stopped your morning ritual.

You lay silent and still,

Weary and heavy in your nest;

Content to let this world

Fend for ourselves without your

Sweet guidance.

My love, my songbird,

Sing me your song, just once more.

Come out to greet me.

Washing night away with warmth and steam

Is too lonely a task without your beguiling song.

Join me in preparing the day,

As my light cannot reach

What your song does not awake.