The birds sing incessantly, insistently this early morning. As if in desperate search of the right trill of notes that will “open sesame” the black night curtain. They do not understand Daylight Savings Time of man, but the alarm clock car engine revved them out of sleep at five a.m., and last week it was dawn.
They persevere, a right of nature and a responsibility, to sing the praises of the sun until, in acceptance of their gift, it at last will rise and warm them in its gratitude for their gifts.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology