A wren has the loudest voice,
the birch, today, its captive audience.
And a branch holds its weight
as no more than a leaf, lifting
its song to sail the water.
Here, Spring crosses and recrosses
the river in conversation;
such little birds to have hearts
so heavy with song.
We have eyed the mystery
of one another, bound
in a fleeting moment of unity
between the wren, the tree and me,
all alive beneath dawn's strangeness:
morning is merciful - we are reminded,
once again, that what begins
in darkness can end in light.
Image is from here: https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Wren_Drawing.jpg
Here is a video of a wren singing that I caught this morning: https://twitter.com/deeringrachel/status/1367024392597864448?s=21