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A Morning Full of Birdsong

For Peter and Monica Hetherington, after the winter

A morning full of birdsong, and a nagging question:
does this music merely signal lust to breed,
alert the singer’s kind to local murderers,
or stake a claim to occupation of a space?
Or is it possible (allow a foolish thought)
that, descants on the young year’s gains of light and warmth,
these mingled notes are also carriers of joy?

Easter Sunday, 2019