Night Cries
At nightfall, trees are nebulous shapes against a darkening sky:
Fields, hedges and their dwellers at rest, all asleep.
The moon is dim, quietness reigns, night deepens.
As time proceeds and peace and slumber reign,
Suddenly a chilling cry is heard, a shriek that comes six times or more,
Speaking fear, pain, surrender, then ceding to death,
As some bird or other creature in the trees or undergrowth
Yields to its fate, in the teeth of hungry predator,
The helpless victim completing, after procreation,
Its life's use, a meal for fox or bird of prey.
The following silence prompts pity, a sadness,
Reminding how the lives of wild things become victims of foe.
In hush the night advances, as slowly the earth turns
Until a hint, a glow, reveals that our corner of the planet
Begins again to face the sun at dawn.
A single bird begins its song, then another, in different tones,
And a third, threading its notes into shared counterpoint,
And as that chorus grows, the sun begins its tree-patterned glow,
In affirmation of life's resumption, as creatures look forward
In innocence to where their instincts drive them,
Unaware of victim's bones amidst the leaves and boughs,
Unable to know or care of nocturnal threat and predation,,
But simply giving glorious voice as day awakens,
And the round of life and death begins again.