Each night the moon's unworldly glow
 Bestows a calm on trees below,
Illuminating shades of gray
 For those who yearn for break of day.

From feathered wings, no rustle heard—
 They watch in darkness; every bird
Maintains a vigil to the east,
 Composing praises yet released.

Together, framed against the dark,
 The midnight crow and golden lark
In silhouette, diverse in name,
 Yet dressed in shadow look the same.

In deeper gloom, the mourning dove
 Awaits the soothing rays of love—
Her broken heart and tattered soul
 Will mend at last to make her whole.

The famished robin has no need
 To search in vain for scattered seed,
For soon her blindness will be gone—
 A gift presented by the dawn.

The moments linger, hope prevails,
 Their faith in sunrise seldom fails,
No single doubt in finch or wren—
 It came before and will again.

At last! A soulful note breaks free
 From high atop the tallest tree—
A song for those who comprehend
 That night is coming to an end.

In blackened skies the daylight spreads
 With royal blues and streaking reds
And guides the wings of wayward flight—
 The dawning of the King of Light.