Before the light of day begins,
There's a song that's sung by birds.
The Robin begins it, one note at a time,
And then he spreads the word.
A new day's beginning, open your eyes,
Greet the morning light.
The Cardinal answers by singing back,
In slurred whistles, cheery and bright.
Chickadees join in and sing their tune,
The Blue Jay squawks a loud jeeah.
Mockingbirds mimic everyone,
The Gray Catbird sasses the day.
A Downy repeats a rapid whinny of notes,
That is descending in pitch each time.
A House Wren emits his buzzing chatter,
While a Song Sparrow sings sweet rhyme.
Each tune is sung again and again,
Some short and some very long,
Lasting an hour or maybe two,
Serenading us with the Dawn Song.
The body has betrayed this once hale and hearty man
but he still does what he can
so what if the crows feet have become crevasses
no vanity here
he still sasses the kids and kids around with his old cronies,
those left
And if he's now bereft of sensual pleasure,
what does it matter
memories of younger days are still embedded
in the recesses of his brain
Eagle eyes clouded, sensations shrouded
he still revels in children's laughter, tilled dark earth
and early buds
showing with the first spring rain
Don't feel sorry for this grey old death-dodging codger
he still does what he will
no matter if time has had its way
nothing to fear
the play's the thing, and sorrows and slings are about to exit,
stage left
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