A tentative first hint of rose
startles cloud-furrowed horizon,
calling up the magpies, thrushes,
currawongs in salutation,
rhapsodes of the moment
night disrobes,
casts off a starry stole
and trawls the ocean's luminosity
to raise dawn's gleaming shoals.
A wren is pouring out its tiny,
pure heart to the hidden sun
outside the window,
silent in its sash
until the sea-winds come.
Aubade of birds
© Copyright: Jena Woodhouse, 2007
Свидетельство о публикации №107012800509
Свидетельство о публикации №107012800509
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