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Dawn

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Martin Gross
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« on: March 02, 2011, 09:48:40 am »

Earth slowly turns her head to greet the sun,
And all the birds begin to sing
While Dawn's enormous ears do welcome their sweet notes.
Saying, "Music to my ears is here!  No one
Can sculpt of sound a lovely thing
As all your warbling," Dawn's a listener who dotes
On rhythm, melody, and harmony.
The lyricism of the lark
Is rarely heard beyond the the small, secluded garden
That is its home, but Dawn's ears' charity
Even the softest song will mark,
Give praise to its beauty, and its imperfections pardon--
The only sounds she never seems to hear.
A true dawn, turning dark to light,
She makes the timid wren's hidden tune manifest.
But as the dawn becomes the day, her ear
Must leave to bring an end to night
In other places.  As the sun sets in the west,
And we poor songbirds, lacking our good friend,
Coo our dejection in the dark,
We dream of Dawn all through night's slowly dragging hours.
We wait for her return, to bring an end
To our black here, and then the lark
Will chirrup joyfully from all the groves and bowers.   
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Marie
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« Reply #1 on: March 04, 2011, 12:38:48 pm »

Hi Martin,

Beautiful tribute.  Loved it.  Thnk you so very much for sharing this with us.

take care and hugs, Marie Smiley
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« Reply #2 on: March 19, 2011, 01:08:39 pm »

Thanks, Marie.  This poem is a tribute to a woman named Dawn, who often listened to music published on a website called Jamendo.  She would write up enthusiastic reviews of much of the music, but recently she had to leave the community, because too much time on the internet meant she wasn't giving enough time to her family and friends.  We musicians all hope she'll return one day. 
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