Birdsong at 5 amI should clarifyit seemed to be one birdand not so much songnor even chorusbut more like a brave baror two at most
But this is poemand not hopeful consonanceso I write ephemeralwhich is fleetingand etherealwhich is artificialconstruct of the human brain
not being one for leavingwarm beds, nor spyingon Saint Nick and no robeto dash up to any quiet windowlandscape covered in fluffor something else I might seethen later have to put inmoving terms vaguely singularfor in the endI subscribe to wonderin theory and so alsowrite ineffable, which Isee as good and roll over
spokesperson for the only speciesthat must always utter a word
when speechless
Photo by Joshua J. Cotten on Unsplash