A Lull in the Endless Fighting Between Signifying Rituals and Insignificant Patterns

There’s a pause that birds observe
In the Kootenai mountains,
Just before a summer dawn.

They’ve let rip first with loud bursts
Just past first light, and they’ll sing,
Loudly, most of the morning,

But there’s an odd pause that seems
Coordinated across
Singing species before dawn,

A lull with no obvious
Explanation, a swift hush.
The early twilight goes on

Growing the light, with the birds,
Who had started out singing
And will resume singing soon,

All, presumably, alert
In their moment of silence.
Maybe the birds are grieving.