Happy New Year, Anonymous Poet’s Way

As a northerner, our Anonymous Poet has his own way of thinking about the birth of a New Year. He prefers to celebrate in his mind, not just a new calendar year, but instead the birth of a new day in the Spring when he first hears the robins. He loves winter, but his thoughts look ahead, too. Here is what he offers. First Bird of Dawn The first bird of dawn Is the one who sings a solo song As first light strikes up the morn; He alone does it, the first bird of the dawn. He stirs the rest out of sleep, Who then become the choral group, Of inharmonious chirp and peep, Which he alone begins, first bird of dawn. Who chooses him to stir the nest? Who is it makes him lead? Perhaps a sun glint to the west Makes him stretch a wing and yawn a yawn. Maybe chance …