Poem: For the Bird Singing before Dawn

For the Bird Singing before Dawn
–Kim Stafford

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.”