At six-fifteen in the suburbs
Day and night shifts greet each other,

Chattering robins, cardinals, wrens
Echoed by a barred owl’s questions.

For a moment they acknowledge
The shared dominion of sound

And take turns, stopping dissonance
With great breaths between each call.

Dark and light are not comingled
With such grace in ordinary time;

Hope of light vain and vague at night,
Darkness tempting thoughts in the noon sun.

But the turntable spins time and again,
Accompanied by untroubled birds.