Close by, the chorus mounts its call:
the song thrush sings a phrase,
the goldfinch trills its light and airy song.
The nuthatch twitters, the chaffinch chatters;
the crowd awaits the sun.
Far off, the church bells peal to mark
the coming of the daily row:
the dawn will fight the ageing twilight gloom.
The sunlight glitters, the darkness scatters;
the day will break again.
By Creative Editor Emma Turner