Comes another dawn
on a late November day
when the bare trees
display their essences
against a changing background
perhaps not spectacular this time
not one for the photographers
but one that gladdens the heart
with its arrival.
And the big voice I mistook
for a cardinal
is, I believe, a compact little wren
in its brown suit
making its voice heard
as if to declare It’s a new day
and this is my little world.
And I think, why not
start the day with a song
staking a claim for my world?
Why not call out, Hello, you!
Hello, world! I am here.
It‘s a new day and I am here.
What will I do with this day?
Sing. Fly. Sing again.
And love this day.
