Sleep and I were not on particularly good terms this morning. Before sunrise, I found myself sitting on the porch, wrapped in the cool quiet of a new day. The world was still suspended between night and morning. The hum of traffic had not yet begun. The rush of schedules, errands, appointments, and obligations remained tucked away behind closed doors. What I noticed first were the birds. Not one bird. Not one song. Dozens of them. Some chirped in short bursts. Others offered long, melodic trills. A few called from far away, while others sang from the trees overhead. Each seemed to have its own rhythm, its own voice, its…