Reveille Poem by Tom Higgins

The sunrise is a golden, peachy delight,
replacing the treacle blackness,
of the kingdom of the night.
The brightening wakens me
from my deep insensible slumber,
and outside of my window
the songbirds grow in number,
to sing their dawn chorus,
competing to be heard,
each trying to sing much louder,
than any other bird.
So the conspiracy of our star,
and my feathered friends,
means that it is certain,
this is where my dozing ends!