Fair Warning

Word of sunup comes to me this morning

from birds, who cry a fair and pleasant warning

of the dawning of a rare and cloudless winter day.

Finches, blackbirds, juncos, siskins, jays

crowd the feeders, flock and sing outside

my windows, peck the snow, perch and ride

the dried stalks of flowers spent in seed.

We all awake to face the day with need:

they for the grains and seeds I grow and buy,

I for the startling rush of wings as they fly

overhead in their vital flocks; we all for the air

that carries them, all for the sun whose light we bear

within our very cells.  So waken, singing

like the birds; celebrate their winging.

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