Who are  you, please?
I yell into the trees
As full as they can hold
Each branch a dance
Of note and song
And morning greetings to the world
The sky is swirled with wing
Of moderate
Midsized thing
In black attire
With no distinctive
Call
No feathered streak
Or marking do I see
What tidings these?
I don’t know who
Or what
Or whence
But here you are
Here
Here
And
Hear!
You sing



Sara Mathews     January 2016