Dream-catchers share their song,
they flutter and gently sway
to the soft sonata
of wind conducted toasts.
They clink like crystal does
when glasses meet,
percussively obliging a rhythm
while performing a tete-a-tete.
The songbird, though,
emits a concerto of its own
to please the chortled maestros
who sit serene and dream.
Let me drink the beauty in
like nectar, nourishing my soul.
Let my heart and mind renew,
in this early morning crescendo.
The songbird whistles through
the morning, warbling sound
to timpani the sun arriving,
above the drying dew.
We lie, entwined, as we observe
what starts the day of melodies,
and allow the songbird's message
to consummate
our sensual symphony.
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