Winter Question

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How is it possible that,
 on a morning when the clouds,
curling back upon themselves,
and  giving up only momentary corridors of bare sky,
on a morning when those maddeningly small tokens of blue
taunt and tease a rain-weary,  fog-weary heart,
how, I ask again,
is it that the sighing wind,
 bending toward the naked oak tree,
can carry a burst of bird song
through the myriad layers
of a morose winter morning,
piercing the frozen edges of  a january nap
prodding and poking me out of  my
january nest?

By what miracle does a Carolina wren,
the tiniest of wintering birds,
on the gloomiest of winter days,
sing in the only voice
the universe gave it,
an April voice,
conjuring up a stunning moment of spring,
and bestowing a blessing
on the rain besotted morning,
 anointing my eyes and ears
with the chrism of its winter anthem,
just in time to save my dispirited soul
from the depths of winter silence?

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©2014 Wabi Sabi

Wren at the Feeder ©2014 WS

Carolina Wren ©2014 WS

Inspired by Alice Keys ‘ Morning Song ‘

For Sunday Whirl -#144
For Recuerda Mi Corazon – postcards from paradise
For Poets United – poetry pantry

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