CvK

Dawn Chorus

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Early morning in a dry land fumes with sulphur breasts of birds waking with light alarm and counterpoint of song feather-free fans the heavy air. Tree ferns alert are still and listen among the wombs of rock both gaping for the golden rain impregnating from our old theology again where rains rush from the sea lit from beneath by the morning sun, and wash the leaves with myth marks. The birds hunt among the leather purse of buds, heavy-wet with honey, then curve up through the sea vapours where it is too high for rain to fall.