Anticipation stirred me this morning,
I awake before the alarm.
Flight paths arc the sky's dawning,
A natural rhythm restoring calm.
Am I alone in searching the sky?
Ears examining the layers of sound.
I notice the lark, calling from its crows-nest up high,
But consumed with urgency, its eyes fixed only earth-bound.
Every year I recall this watchful sense and hope lifts,
Summer is heralded by the return of the swifts.
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