In The Morning, Early Poem by Steven Federle

In the morning, early
before the sun has cleared
our neighbor’s roof,
we move through
our morning chores:

You water your gardens
and I feed my birds.

The rose, the morning glory,
creeping higher
up the blue trellis, reaching
for the brightening sky;
in the window-box
the vinca bursting red,

as sparrow and finch tumble
from the cherry tree

swarming in noisy congregation,
fussing and quarreling, shoving
for more seed -

rejoicing!