A Bird is Singing by Carole Martin

Early, before sunrise on this winter morning

I dress, and smile to hear my familiar bird

sing, high in the poplars across the road.

 

This is an ordinary house; semi-detached

in a suburban street, in a country with enough.

This house, our heart of safety.

 

The bird sings high and loud and shining.

It sings to my good house, the small trials

which may come for me; it sings of hope.

 

The bird sings high above the darkness

of celebrations, and terrors, and the dull days.

It sings for me, as I draw back the curtains.

 

Wherever trees are

birds are singing in the darkness,

for the dawn is coming.

 

Comments   

0 #2 Carole Martin 2022-01-03 09:48
Thank you so much for your comment. Margaret. It's very heartening to have a poem heard and understood.
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0 #1 Margaret Simpson 2022-01-03 09:21
This poem really 'spoke' to me. It first reads as simple, ordinary (with its reference to semi- detached house, small trials), but it is so much more, 'in a country with enough', 'for the dawn is coming' speaks volumes.
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