I hear the dawn in birdsong
before catching the dim, cold light
slipping through the curtained panes.
Birds have an advantage, with them
in the midst of first light and
me cocooned in end of night,
not yet ready to live again.
But then comes the silence.
Why do they stop singing
just as new life dawns?
Perhaps to allow me some
time to begin to live again.
(By Russell E. Willis, first appeared in THE POET Magazine - Poem of the Day, May 26, 2021)