Bid the Wren to Sing

Anxious Pen

Give me wings
that I may fly ahead of daylight,
and remain forever
in the newness of morning.

Keep me in that silver hour,
where droplets of inspiration hover
between shadows,
like wildflowers in a meadow—
Simple and fleeting,
they alight on quiet mind
and gentle soul.

Tether me to the place
where night ink bleeds color,
in hues of strength
and dignity—
before the brazen sun
pours rude light
across the sky.

Entwine my voice in
the trailing notes of midnight.
I will join the chorus
that tenderly awakens,
and reminisces of fading dreams.
Set my new song afloat
on the cool breath of daybreak—

And let me bid the wren to sing.

(Image: Alejandro Escamilla)

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