Morning Song Poem by Gert Strydom

It feels as if the screaming
of a cricket goes right through the depths of me,
pass sleep into my brain.

Outside there’s a choir of frogs croaking
to really wake me up
and I wonder why everything
and now even the birds
this morning is singing so happily
and somewhere in the distance
a cock crows a few times.

The sun’s red fingers
already feels through the twilight
and I see the big old dark brown dog
stretching herself out
as if she is worshiping the sun
and then sits prepared on attention
while she’s watches the street.