Wisdom of Birds

In the dim, just-stirring hours
of a pre-migration March morning
the voice of a slate-colored junco,
like an insistent telephone,
called me from reverie upon my pillow.
Little cousin chickadee,
up from Carolina,
piped his reminiscence
of days closer to the dawn.
Little birds do not bring secrets
to me as it is said they do to some.
Instead the sparrows and nuthatches
remind me no light is to be wasted
with sleeping. Though there is time enough
for gathering seeds and sewing
there is none to spare
lest I forgo the Spring.