Trill

In the hush of dawn a trill takes flight,
A silver thread of sound that weaves through light,
Each note a kiss, a quick, bright chase,
Where heart and feather meet in grace.

A quivering pulse, a fleeting art,
That trembles on the throat of a throbbing heart,
It lifts the mist, it shakes the bough,
A trembling joy that only birds allow.

So let the world hear this bright refrain,
A tiny storm of joy and strain,
For in that trill the summer sings,
And echoes of the morning rings.