At break of dawn

There was a time when in the early hours
I lay awake with thoughts that made me weep
Then heard the sounds of singing birds
To serenade me back to sleep

An orchestra of sound so innocent and light
The overture to hope that morning brings
As melancholy turns to joy
Through music born across the sky on wings

Where has it gone this blessing once bestowed
Upon us all by Nature’s kind concern?
This perfect blend of imperfections
Or is it lost destined to not return?

The songsters sing no more in vale and village
Reduced in numbers and in spread
Where once a hundred thrushes sung
We hear the crow or raven squawk instead

And so I wake before the dawn has come
to miss the notes that soothed me instantly
That random chorus no-one could compose
More beautiful than any symphony

© Pip Burley
October, 2012

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