Transition

This is a poem about change. Change is terrifying, but it's the only thing that keeps the Earth turning.

The last tendrils of moonlight trickle in the open window,

sneak quietly through the cage of sleeping birds,

and shatter soundlessly on the floor;

shards of moonlight lie broken on the floor.

What do things like day and night matter to the birds?

Throw a sheet over them- it might as well be evening.

(Or is it death?)

The birds are immobile where they are,

and freedom's a far-fetched feeling.

They have no choice but to feel comfortable.

(Are they happy?)

They do not lie awake in silence, fearing

that they may never again sing in the sunlight.

Though they float above the turning Earth,

they know it moves.

(Is anything moving?)

Those tender plumes of moonlight remind them

of the sun that will come again;

it rises slowly, unbearably so, but the blink of an eye

could miss that glorious change,

that miracle movement of monstrous orbs

that wakes the songbirds from their slumber

and wills them to sing at a new day of life.

The world comes into brilliance once more;

pillars of sunlight lie perfect on the floor.

Reviews

[Augustus]

Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! The opening is breathtakingly beautiful... The questions asked after the first three stanzas are phenomenally deep and striking... And you seem to interlace beautiful imagery with philosophy so effortlessly and seamlessly...I don't think I have read a better description of breaking dawn...
Wonderful write!

[Little Pill]

I love this line :What do things like day and night matter to the birds?
Throw a sheet over them- it might as well be evening. I get this is a serious poem, but that just made me laugh cause I could picture you throwing a sheet on a bird.