Well, for one thing, tho’ the street lights are on all night, they don’t say a word. Then, at the first hint of daylight, even on the darkest and cloudiest of mornings, they start singing and calling to one another from the trees. And so the street lights are lighter than daylight, and dawn is darker than night. But the robins — yes, the robins, still get it right.
February 28, 2021
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Categories: New Poems & Pieces
Tags: Dawn, Diaries, Journals, Night, Poems, Poetry, Robins, Street Lights
William Michaelian 