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.
