as April begins....

It is that time of year

when the dawn chorus seems to last

all day

and only experts can parse

the sound

into its component parts.

I no longer hear

the screech of the owl

that tears night from day,

for I am still safe asleep

in my dreamless dark

as the sun rises

and calls the birds

to sing.

Those tremulous riffs,

complex movements of tongue,

throat, lungs

become triumphant sound,

calling to future mates,

defining hunting grounds.

And then, at the darkening

of the sky,

the night-jar's churr

sings of warmth to come

and the owl's quiet hooting

rejoins day to night.