Morning Solo

The one bird at 5:53 tells me that morning is on its way.

My friend Mary would remind me of the chorus soon to follow,
how bird by bird they witness our ever turning, ever spinning.

I never noticed the crescendo before her note pinned to a page:
the observation of a poet revealing how the world sings ever on and ever on.

Poem ©2016, Jen Paye, National Poetry Month, 5. Image: L’oiseau bleu, Marc Chagall.

2 thoughts on “Morning Solo

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