Chirping Birds Poem by RIC BASTASA

the morning here
is always the sound of chirping birds
because the trees
have been their homes at night
when the sun rises
the birds fly away again
and when the sun fades
they come back
to their nests
and home

the night hums the song of silence
bird's eyes closing again
to the golden sheen
of the bright moon

the white owl flaps its wings
on a nocturnal adventure
in harmony with the bats
friends of the night

some shadows lurk in the night
in the pursuit of happiness
some souls are restless
on dreams unfulfilled

some wake up dwindling at dawn
opening the fridge for a glass of cold water
switches on the computer
and begin again
anew to another poem