Early Spring morning

It’s time to be up and calling;
not to break a glass, or chandelier,
or en-trance with a witty lyric
but to find a different way in the dark
- because, for now, for birds, that sun’s a spark.

Outside, open beaks dominate: although, sssshhhhh,
I can almost eavesdrop growing
grass like Walt Whitman - exultant!
Mighty flowers and foliage rattle
and, under leaves, the eggs of insects settle.

There! Shall we go underleaf
and wait as patiently as mother
for their battle-out of casement:
leaving giant birds to whistle, croak and shout
while we listen-in for pillars breaking out.