Serenade Of The Dawn by Richard L. Broch Sr.

​  Nightfall is pulling the plug on its luminary majesty,
​  A circadian of red is peeking over the eastern horizon.
  Darkness is reluctant to relinmquish its veil, viewing light as a travesty,
​  A new daylight, awaiting consignment to focus one's eyes upon.
​  At this time a well-orchestrated event begins to stir,
​  As has occured for uncountable eons of time.
​  A hypnotic convention with subtley, but a colossal take as it were,
​  Each part of the process emanating its own unique enzyme.
​  This grandiose masterpiece is exquisite standing alone,
  Yet, a logical collateral of measured decibels is audible.
​  So this moment, an imaginary pitch sounds its tone,
  A chimerical blend becomes strikingly unstoppable.

​  An untold symphony of bird species, each with a song,
​  Staccato chirps intervening legato elongation,
​  The regular impromptu group makes merry, none doing wrong,
​  Each one looks forward to this daily gig as a joyous connotation.

​  Now the volume of the feathered choir approaches climax 
​  As a grand finale draws near........

  The eastern horizon all ablaze, a silent scene of sky hi-jacks.
​  Darkness has been superseded..... a new day is here.

​  An unrushed, regular episode...not produced by mankind,
​  Answers to no role of governmental laws,

  Beyond any limitations, that in no way can bind
​  A breath-taking, temporary occurance, free of flaws.

​  Why......this rituaistic refrain for each morning's glory?
​  The birds receive no compensation for their flair,
​  Some early-risers might not appreciate their early auditory,

  Even if ignored, the overture would continue without care.

​  Here's what birds can expect this new day -

  An appetite, that contines to whet.......
​  Cats, nest building, a B.B., aimed as at prey -
  From a boy who hasn't shot his eye out (yet).
​  All these fail to keep the birds from taking the stage,
  Life-time concerts for setting listener's daily wends.
​  Perchance as we drink in the show, hmmn.....an urge to engage?
  How 'bout some music lessons from our feathered friends?

​ 

   This poem has not been published as of 01/23/17.  
​    Richard L. Broch Sr.