Ecstatic bird songs pound
the hollow vastness of the sky
with metallic clinkings--
beating color up into it
at a far edge,--beating it, beating it
with rising, triumphant ardor,--
stirring it into warmth,
quickening in it a spreading change,--
bursting wildly against it as
dividing the horizon, a heavy sun
lifts himself--is lifted--
bit by bit above the edge
of things,--runs free at last
out into the open--!lumbering
glorified in full release upward--
songs cease.
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Comments1Wow, I felt like I was right there watching the sun rise, real raw and powerful. Couldn't help but to feel the cold morning becoming warmer. The ending struck me though, why'd the birds have to stop singing? Anyway, cool poem.