I awake from sleep
And start my day
With tea.
I feel the life within me
Flowing strong
I will be
Just me
Ere I find sleep
Again.
Sometimes I weep
But the wood
Is full of birdsong.
I will walk there again
For I am half in love
And I do not have long
Ere sleep finally takes me
To beyond birdsong,
Love and sleep
When, at 4 am,
I awoke, the birds spoke
To me, bringing peace
And a return to sleep.
The tinkle of windchimes
And birdsong heard in my mum’s garden
Brought into my mind
Life’s great beauty, and thoughts of mortality.
I have awoken to birdsong
And lain awake
Until sleep takes me again.
I measure time
With clocks. Birds and flowers
No not hours,
Nor do they see me
Conversing with time
In a half rhyming rhyme
Until my song is done.
A myriad sparrows singing
To me from a tree.
Their song
Bringing joy
To girl and boy.
I know not how long
My song
May be.
But sparrows in a tree,
Sang to me.
Caught up in thought
Amidst these spring flowers.
How many hours
Have I spent
Denying that our time is lent.
Then, birdsong
Breaks through my useless thought.
And I recognise
That human eyes
Do not see for long.
And that I ought
To fill my mind
With birdsong.
Yet, I find
That my brain
Oft runs like an express train
And will not be still.
But, sometimes, its just the sky
And I
And the poignancy of birdsong,
That will not last long.
When,
At a little after 5 am
I awake.
I think it late.
“Can you hear the birds?”,
You said.
Alone, in my bed,
I remember your words,
So much unsaid
By a girl who
I scarcely knew,
For a night is not long.
Yet, you took me far beyond
Sin, with the beauty of birdsong.
How sweet and sad was the bird
I heard
As I stood at my open window.
When I go
To the pub to meet my friends,
We will pretend
That there is no end,
Or at least hide for a while
In the smile
Produced by drink,
Which makes men think
That all,
This will last.
But, I shall recollect the bird’s call,
As I stood at my open window
And know
That all
That sings, must pass.
All around
I hear
The sound
Of birds in the graveyard near
To my home.
As I walk alone,
Through this place of bone,
A thought profound,
“Those underground
Can not hear”.
A bird,
At dusk I left
Singing in the darkening park.
I heard
As I walked away
His song,
And half longed to stay,
But left
My solitary friend
To wend
My way home
Alone, save for his evening hymn,
Which is now a part
Of my oh, so human, heart
K Morris - Poet 