Serenade, Intensive Intermission, Concert
The birds begin their songs before the light
Begins to tinge the sky and hide the stars.
These early voices start to banish night:
They are the dawn’s commanding feathered czars.
They carry on their chorus till the day
Rejoices in their pretty triumph, wide.
The realm of midnight shades to light like May.
They stop their songs once noon has found its stride.
The silence they create then gives them rest.
They bide their peaceful time creating zeal
For later singing freed from in each breast.
This makes the afternoon being to kneel
To twilight as they sing and twitter filled
With purpose. Risng moonlight spreads out, thrilled.
~ Phillip Whidden