Morning has broken
Please bear with me
one tiny moment
while I try to explain:
listen: a speck
of a half-fledged
sparrow doesn’t sit
at the top thin twig
of a late winter tree
and throat
his half-formed song
for all he is worth,
which isn’t that much,
at the breaking
of this overcast day,
this turning of the Earth,
this faint sensation
of warmth,
for no good reason.
Dave Stacey is based in London. His poems have recently appeared in Gyroscope Review, The Cabinet of Heed, Bonnie’s Crew, Dodging The Rain, Eye Flash and Picaroon Poetry.