Bird's Song Poem by john tiong chunghoo

always one sudden chirp
in the first light
trailed off by the excited
twits of a flock.

birds in the giant trees
outside my window,
how timely they are each morn,
I wonder they take turns
to greet each new day.

the same hour,
these little creatures
set their time
on a body clock
to herald in new adventures.

their scintillating
morn chatters
strike my curiosity
about their tales.

one must get the bettle
that escaped capture yesterday
still hiding in its hole perhaps,

the other still prays
to have the same fat worm
he had yesterday and
is definitely heading
for the same promising place,

another wonders when
it would rain,
one lone weak twitter
that seems out of place
thinks today
might be another paltry day
with little catch.

pessimism is all over,
isnt it, not only
among us homo sapiens?

the courting, the holidaying
the scores of tales
that fly in the tree
awake me to my own day's mission.
i join the birds in
their day i find not
quite different from mine.

i wonder whether they pray too
for a good day though? i would
gladly join them in their hymns.