At dawn the toddler’s fat fingers reach toward a ball
That plays music as it tumbles around her,
And my phone alarm sings a dawn chorus to me.
I turn it off and get up for the toddler
Who is crying because the ball,’s rolled away.
Starting in the East birds sing at every point
Where sunlight awakens our tumbling globe.
As each longitude line is lit different birds
Sing different dawn songs on musical earth.
The giants above like to roll our sphere
Because they love to hear the birds’ dawn songs.
What will they do when no birds sing anymore?