Passacaglia

The pale tablature

of an early morning

jots the cracking caws

of bird jabber

echolocating back to nest

through to branch

back to nest in a jumping

flap of feather flashed

clockwork to a ray

when the sun bursts

so does the song

unfolding chirps to a distance

it all hums

these rising calls

the cars start up

this half of the world recommences