A Sun Unsung: NaPoWriMo 2015, Day Six

When there are no birds,
will you do the singing?

Somebody has to—
otherwise, that morning
doesn’t count, and we all

have to trudge toward afternoon
unheralded as the clouds peel back
a hot dog sun or a hard-boiled egg

sun, not anything to be
celebrated, particularly.
It’s dangerous,

to let this happen. A sun unsung
is one that might chose to come

and closer
and closer

until we burn in our
adoration. So it’s better,
safer, if someone does

the singing, and I’m
wondering (if there’s
a day without birds)

if that someone
could be you.