sober

Whistling through the halls, I hear the songbirds sing.

They have their pecking order, and it makes my ears ring.

The bell does toll, for the toil we seek.

And that’s what I saw on that one street.

Under the light, the mist clouded view,

Leaving behind, a delicate dew.

The morning sun rose, and brightened the day;

The clouds dissipated, and we wonder what to say.