I wake with the birdsong this morning,
Blackbird and Thrush, Starling, Sparrow
And bold red-breasted Robin,
Rolling back the night, a new day,
The scent of cool moist air and earth
And spacious glowing sky.
These sounds draw my mind out beyond my body,
Back to the time before our technological roar and rumble,
Before our words were formed,
When, some say, we also had only song to greet the day.
And outwards too:
I think of you,
Warm and further away than my arms can reach
And only my mind and love can embrace you.
To people whose minds are too distracted,
Or weary or angry or afraid,
Or, worst of all, too devoid of curiosity
To perceive this symphony.
To places where only our machines wander
With thin electric motor whine in a thinner air we cannot breathe.
Our first footsteps in, I hope, a greater voyage that
The birds can never join
Except in song.
If people start to live on the ancient sands of Mars
And make the red world green
They may need to bring the birdsong too
To wake not just their minds,
But awaken hearts and souls
And lift the sky.