The owl ceases his haunting hoot,
Fluffs his feathers to sleep,
Locking in the heat,
His day is done.
The dim light of dawn rises over a misty morn,
Stars gently fade to nothing
Returning in the dullness of evening,
Switching on in a sequence known only to their maker.
Passerine birds awake the dawn.
Robins and wrens start the day,
Great tits follow soon,
then the chiffchaff
and the blackcap.
Blackbirds and thrushes follow on.
The orchestra of the morning works to a crescendo of sound.
Then, as the sun pushes its first fingers of light
Into the chill of the morning.
Save for the sway of trees,
The rushing of a brook,
The scamper of rabbits.
The snap of a twig underfoot.
Dryads and Hamadryads come out, come to me.
Is it just the russell of leaves?
Or do the really trees sing?
As night meets day.