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Book of Days

BOOK OF DAYS: A POET AND NATURALIST TRIES TO FIND POETRY IN EVERY DAY

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May 21: Morning Sounds

Kristen Lindquist

I love waking up for a few minutes around dawn to hear the birds welcoming the day--the jubilant dawn chorus--before I fall back asleep. Last night was so warm I left the bedroom window cracked, hoping to be awakened this morning by birdsong. When I did wake up for a brief period in the day's wee hours, however, no wave of melodious warblers was moving through our back yard. I didn't even hear robins, whose rollicking songs open and close each day--just some chickadees and a phoebe, their songs punctuating the constant rush of the river in the background.

My husband, who usually wakes up at least an hour before I do, was away last night. So after I fell back asleep, there were not even the noises of his puttering around the house getting ready for work to rouse me again. I slept till the alarm went off. It was unusually restful, but when I did finally get out of bed, I felt something had been missing.

No dawn chorus, nor
your usual morning sounds--
only the river.