Birdsong begins in my yard at 3:45.
In the morning.
The birds remind me of this fact
when I sleep with windows open.
Night bugs have hummed me to sleep,
birdsong greets me when I wake—
or when it wakes me
in the wee hours.
This morning,
a mockingbird on some nearby perch
commenced his concert at 4:00.
He ran through his repertoire
interspersing chirps and chirrs
with fancy fluting phrases
rising and dipping and dancing.
But it’s early.
I glance at my clock.
Very early.
Are these birds singing in their sleep?
Or summoning the sunrise?
Or maybe the first hint of dawn
is already drifting into the sky
and summoning them.
If the early bird catches the worm,
these warblers will be well-fed.
Maybe this is their prayer before breakfast.
Maybe they are singing in pure joy
at the bounty, the beauty, the blessing
of simply being,
being a flying, perching, singing soul
here to see the sun circle
one more day.
I lie back, pillowed and peaceful,
listening and grateful.
As the mockingbird’s melodies
melt into morning,
I let him sing me back to sleep.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

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Text and photos © Karyn Henley 2026. All rights reserved.