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For the Bird Singing before Dawn

Some people presume to be hopeful

when there is no evidence for hope,

to be happy when there is no cause.

Let me say now, I’m with them.

In deep darkness on a cold twig

in a dangerous world, one first

little fluff lets out a peep, a warble,

a song—and in a little while, behold:

the first glimmer comes, then a glow

filters through the misty trees,

then the bold sun rises, then

everyone starts bustling about.

And that first crazy optimist, can we

forgive her for thinking, dawn by dawn,

“Hey, I made that happen!

And oh, life is so fine.