Dawn Chorus

Something wakes me


It’s 5 a.m. when he starts to call

From the weeping willow top


He calls and the day responds

With a syncopated beat of passing cars

Interwoven with the first bleary bus

And heavy lorries with heavy goods


He calls and blinds roll up

Curtains open drawing yeasty yawns

Stretches, press ups, first cigarettes

Sleepy sex, missed breakfasts


He calls and a released dog barks

Joyous leaps and then steamy squat

Cat uncurls and ambles home

Rattle of dry food pours in her bowl


He calls and above the noise

A muffled reply he just hears

An echo, bar a few notes

That mark his space in time and place


He calls and I slip back to sleep

Dreams of being lost and late

And wrong names and missing trains

Of sinking ships, over-booked planes

Again, again, again, again.




n.b, NaPoWriMo 2019 Day 3: Things developing, or unravelling, over an extended time period.


      1. I did it! I got caught up (quality though that’s another matter). It’s on your Day 4 comments!


      2. You have. It seems like a lot of time (Day 1) is covered in this stretched sadness (Day 4). It is the pangs from linger from day-to-day, the unresolved nature of sadness that can be crippling. Choir practice seems like a good antidote…unless it’s Gorécki’s Symphony No 3 😢


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