The blackbird piping at the gates of dawn
does only what his instinct bids him to.
Announces to the world the day is new.
it was for this that he was born.
His melodies composed to greet the morn,
he whistles first a stave or two
and then he sings his morning hymn anew
His fluid notes on morning breezes borne
to those of us who rise before the sun
His never failing morning paean of praise
to he who created everything
The darkling shadows of the night are gone.
The sun gives light to all with warming rays
What better reason could he have to sing?

5-Oct-07

ivor or ivor.e hogg

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/aubade-07-for-m-lady-jenna/