A chirrup beneath my window syll--

A chirrup beneath my

window syll

"Chirrupchirrup."

            

A Pipit goes. Café au lait 

plumage quavering in dew 

and wind.

        

Splayed on syll sublime

his songs he

sings.

            

My ears, freshwoken, hear

tender crescendo and I

arise

and start the

day.