Sometimes, I think of birds.
The mellow of the morning.
The dew gently waking up
as it dries under the rising sun.
And there's the bird. Chirp!
It sings to the awaiting day.
Its carols beat upon the
solemn silence as all other
eyes ache to lift their lids.
But then the bustle sets in.
Engines are revved.
Kids loitering at bus stops.
The buzz. The clamor.
So the bird stops its song.
My winged friend is relegated
back to the skies in search
of newer and quieter branches.
Who knows if it will be better?
Will its search come to an end?
All I do know is that
it's no longer here.
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