Tonic.
No tonic compares to dawn\'s early rewarding blackbird-soprano
when spilling abroad.
Silence drips with explosion as trills bare feathered heart-shards
which pierce crystal air.
If only my pen could capture each rapturous
droplet of sound, alchemy bottled in clearest
melody that unstoppered pours liquid healing
on my festering senses, one dose of captured
spring-chorus should invoke poetic treatment.
Of all nature\'s symphonies this bird\'s throaty repertoire hastens
thrilled bards to rise early.
So with his tuneful soliloquies stirring my sleep I now gratefully rouse
and intend to drink deeply.