In the Wee Early Morn of Summer

 

In the wee early morn of summer

while humans and dogs still slumber

I awaken to an orchestra of crickets and frogs.

 

I arise to my chair

where I hear the grand fare

and notice the progression of song.

 

In the distance an owl

closer a robin begins her soliloquy.

 

But soon joined from the forest

they’ve become a chorus

a crescendo of unthinkable harmony.

 

The orchestra leader calls forth the sun

and the song begins to still.

 

But I’ll never forget

the voices I met

in the morn by my window sill.