I awaken to the sound of one lonely owl

hooting in the darkness

somewhere in the distance downriver.

He’s calling through the dense trees

to another across the Kennebec

who sits in the tallest tree on Spaulding Point.

As the dawn slowly illuminates the fog

creeping through the oak and spruce trees,

it drops shiny rhinestones of dew

on my window screens.

A smile of gratitude floats across my face

for the gifts of sight and of hearing.

Last night as I lay nestled in my bed

waiting for the chaotic flashes of the day

to quiet in my weary head I listened to

the crickets krek-ing, melding their song

with the treefrogs zenlike

Veee-zzz-eeee, veee-zzz-eeee, veee-zzz-eeee, zzz-eeee, zzz-eeee.

Incessant tones blend into one

harmonious chant long into the night.

The exciting sounds of the concert,

rivaled only by

the high pitched sound of energy

coursing through the high tension lines,

spanning the river from Farmingdale to Chelsea.

The light of dawn quiets the tree frogs all at once.

Some of the crickets have shut down

their weary krek-ing. The rooster

is crowing away in the yard next door.

His alarm awakens a cardinal

who calls a quick chirp, chirp, chirp-eeee.

A crystal-clear sweet song for his mate.

Ravens and crows arrive just then to

announce their loud and bossy

CAW-CAW-CAW-ing to the neighborhood.

Over the treetops the crimson sun bursts,

spreading its warm love over the audience,

washing away yesterday’s Off-Broadway play.

Act one of “today” begins.

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