In an oddly quiet corner of the city,
before starless skies flooded by neon signs
give way to a watercolor horizon of
indigo and cobalt layers over rising coral and gold,
the dawn chorus
breaks through the muted shadows
with its familiar repertoire.
the mockingbirds–
who knew they sang here? –
echo Creation
with gentle calls of “Y’hi or.”
Standing at my window,
I catch the house sparrows’ reply:
“Va-y’hi or,”
as the world outside awakens.
Blessed are You, Adonai,
Creator of all that illuminates.
before starless skies flooded by neon signs
give way to a watercolor horizon of
indigo and cobalt layers over rising coral and gold,
the dawn chorus
breaks through the muted shadows
with its familiar repertoire.
the mockingbirds–
who knew they sang here? –
echo Creation
with gentle calls of “Y’hi or.”
Standing at my window,
I catch the house sparrows’ reply:
“Va-y’hi or,”
as the world outside awakens.
Blessed are You, Adonai,
Creator of all that illuminates.
