July 26, 2014

Night Song

I hear birds
at five AM,
the sun must be shining
somewhere, again.

Songs so pure 
aren't what they seem,
I'm not sure
what they mean.

Each bird sings
at the end of night.
I hear one still, 
beyond my sight.

He sings alone,
just for me,
I'll follow him
to eternity.
He carries me off
at break of day;
why he sings at all,
I cannot say.