Winter-broke
bird nests tumble
rain-soaked
through white-stretch branches.
Land last year, sighing
on mulch-brown
fungus-fed yesterday.
Thrush and Jay and Starling
stare down Fox
as Blackbird’s silver-bright song
outshines the milk-moon,
rises from sodden ground
through grey-green fox stare,
sodden boughs,
diffracted clouds
outshines the setting moon.
This morning,
dawn-song,
of no more winter-broke
no more fox-run
no more fungus-fed yesterday.
This morning,
dawn-song.