ressurect the morning

I woke up on easter day at 5 in the morning to some intense bird chirping. It inspired me to write this:
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little birds you woke me this dawn
during a mad array of thick, dark, twisting sleep.

I heard you all trumpeting, heralding, spinning little tones and melodies
tiny whistles with beating wings.

It was 5am. and green darkness hung down, draped with rain on the forest floor.
one eye open, the other shut, I could see nothing in the dawn.
no wind, flutter, or bouncing branches, only song.

But I knew that that kinetic energy was yours (and mine), rolling out behind the cloud.
Upward and outward and over the leaves.
Down through the torrents and over the crowd of beating little breasts.
Down deep in the feathers of my pillow,
where I lay my head for the second time to rest,
and fall back to sleep, sound, in a frenzy of unadulterated peace.