Early Bird

Make me birdsong.

Trace my outline in the rhythmic beating of wings.

Let me soar inside an invisible swell of sound.

From one call that shatters the still before light.

I will chase the dawn as it bleeds across the horizon.

My sinew, muscle and memories given flight.

To drift away

And be lost to the infinite arc of the sky.

Listen for me in the morning.

By Catherine Low.