Dawn chorus, even to my ears, has been hijacked,
corvid chorus being the more appropriate discription,
harsh, with the occasional plaintive
interruptions of small sorts and short sharp bursts
of magpie rhetoric; to this a warming sun hauls
a lazy fireball into a colourless sky
clear of cloudy interruption, quickening blue
in glorious promise. Sudden silence prompts
my own progress into this new day as I reach
for pen and paper, my own morning exercise
routine to trace out the tiny details of green
abundance, to record the gentle solace of
order in chaos, and the surprising chaos
in the gentle order of manicured tangle
that it daily pleases me to call my garden.