A Sweeter Sound

I fell in love with the twilight sky, the morning before daybreak, the branches rustling, the birds waking up, their morning song domestic. The birds became my nearest confidants. We spoke of a purpose under god's heaven, besides man. In the twilight, there is a lull in the frightful call of the gullible. Hearing a sweeter sound I wonder for why god's good earth was made, if the stars twinkling out like night lights are for our pleasure only, or if the birds could hear a tree falling in the forest or the chain saw, or the man who thought he was god.