In A Late June Dawn A Small Poem For Sana Poem by Daniel Brick

In a late June dawn
first a solitary bird speaks, then a pair,
eventually scores with their insistent
tunes and unvarying rhythms. A pause.
And the sun's light streams
across the green language, shines
its blue light over us and them.
Another pause... By now, I'm
out of bed, stumbling in the direction
my body knows well enough to lean.
I drink first the light, then the air,
finally clear crystal water. This is
the purest moment of the rest. After it
dissolves into the lightness of time spent,
I must do my best to preserve purity.
(But I know you are already helping,
which is why I feel no fear...)

I stand alone on my balcony, watching
shapes appearing in the haze hovering
still in these early moments. I would
not discount any of the common features,
such as feisty squirrels, song birds,
invisible hawks and owls, shy deer, and
the occasional fox, sunning himself
as it to scoff at the restraint of others.
Hopefully, this will not become a day
I'll need to negotiate with myself
for every scrap of success. I prefer
those days the human element is subsumed
in the rest of it, animal, mineral, plant
and God. I do not mind the need to play
a role with consummate skill, to convince
my companion animals I am still one
with them. But please make the whole
of it effortless, like a dance so well
rehearsed it takes no effort to excel,
as if this dawn in late June opened
on a garden greeting us, with no trace
of subtle serpents or forbidden fruits.