Dawn, September

Early light this morning,

diffuse and thickened with wet

Saturated tones, deep drumming vibrations

and unapologetic patter on the pitched roof.

Through layer on layer of persistent downfall

a lone and startling birdsong of exquisite clarity,

utterances of such tiny pitch, almost inaudible as tune

yet simultaneously piercing through the dullness.

The light levels increase imperceptibly

the undeniable luminosity of daybreak

filtered and weakened by infinite drizzle

Inside the noise reduces to drum amiably

on the eaves, softness surrounding the house

mingling with the purring of a warmth-seeking cat,

more songbirds, and a distant crow.

Finally a woodpigeon calls once, lazily

Through now soft drops,

Diluted conversation from sheep barely reach across the fields

and the dirty pale blue tint of dawn shifts to a dull white.