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.
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