Small Bodies With Feathers

Early morning delivers birdsong joys, as the darkness is swept away by God. Undulations for my ears, sonorous and dear, over and over - I ponder small bodies with feathers, noteworthy songs. Why does their cadence console us each day as the sunrise breaks forth with cheeriness? How awfully sad that the night dwellers sleep! They douse their ears with flammable liquid. I weep for soused sufferers who miss out! I spied the church steeple, with a “caw, caw.” I bet those crows are there each day to greet those seeking the inner doors of its peace. Who notices but I, the poetess? Who cares at all if crows speak well of us?