Literature
Songbird
In the early morning hours
as time stands still,
breathless,
and unchanging,
darkness is full and impenetrable,
for Apollo has yet
to harness his great steeds
and brighten the mortal world
with fiery life.
When sleep should be upon
the minds of man -
from the lowly born
to silver spoon wielders -
a trill, long note resounds
through the leafy canopy
of useless shade.
Oh, sweet little songbird,
that brightly sings
his liveliness into
the early morning darkness
outside the glassy portal
of my consciousness -
STFU, I'm trying to sleep.