The Dawn Visitor

The nights were short, A clear summer, long and hot, A chickadee visited every dawn, And caught a stunning view by the pane. Maybe my nest’s walls knew, A fluffy gray-black chick who— Lit the sun pointed to my nest house— Captured my morning drowse. A courageous little skylark, With a notorious chirp crack, She repeatedly taps my pane, And sharply beeps, in rhythmic strain. Pulled from beloved slumber, I scan who— Through my drowsy eyes, I view— The vivid rattle, truly, she’s a great dancer, My ears almost paralyzed by the clatter. Through the solid unglazed pane its clear, The morning breeze powers the air, The lovely melody alarms my doze— Tirelessly, she airs her pose. The shrill stole my focus, A lone owls’ hoot – a secret in the sunrise, The arduous tweet feels counterfeit, But the unfolding truth won’t lie or cheat.