Similar to the mastheads of schooners,
Thin treetops [summits] swaying in the wind;
Large black crows are perched THERE – sailing these waves.
Early mornings inspire birds to be crooners.
Flitting from branch to branch, their song is signed
By their talons digging…breathing, breath saves
Their voices and their singing become lunar:
To meditate leads to dreams, I don’t mind,
These mornings that evolves into these days,
…what do the birds know that we don’t know?