birds are back
suddenly singing morning
I rise from warm sheets
and listen to stippled ceiling chirps
waking dank early spring into
green April promise
so season begets season
and I look through window
and see avian congregation
like a blankandwhite still of a Hitchcock film
red-winged black and sparrows and
tiny finch
on the lawn driveway and in the
maple
feasting on seeds and worms
until the bully robins enter scene
and chase the others away
like thieves on the run
but this is all fine
because I feel like a foundling
listening to Bach for the first
time
caught dumbstruck by this new
life
in our unroofed universe
so unlike the bombastic trump-world
of tomahawk missiles of lies
and lies about lies
for this bird chorus is truest of true
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