Every morning a variety of birds chirp and sing me awake.
And I am pleased and thankful at this late point in my life
to be able to do that, believe me.
Perched here in my house above Honolulu,
I am surrounded by trees older than I,
so long the homes to breeds of so many generations.
The reviving avian force is still strong with me then,
the aves stirring my soul as always still.
Every day, and now that summer’s coming,
this sunrise choiring happens earlier each day.
The music does bring me back to this life,
and I know when it will not,
that the birds will still sing in the morning
for future sleeping generations to wake,
and lying there listening to this lessoning,
I recall how Ruth stood soothed amid the alien corn
by this self-same kind song.