Mayday resurrections

the air is crisp and cool
across the river, the low line of houses sleeps soft wind ruffles the water
lifts small peaky triangles
it is still dark.
Then the first bird-notes trill into the silence sharp, clear, a joy to the ear.
Light streaks through from the east
spreads over field and roof,
colours grow clear
and tiny creatures crawl up leaves
searching for sunlight
the air is growing warm;
we go on hoping...