The Bird

May 24, 2012
“Chirp, Chirp” whispers a light green bird from the boughs of a bare oak tree.
“Chirp, Chirp” he says again, this time directed at me.
I tell him “bird, I hear you as clear as I see sky all lit up at midday,
But what you mean with your chirping, I really cannot say!”

Taking flight he zips across the yard and lands, covered by the leaves of a pine.
“Chirp, Chirp. Chirp, Chirp.” Twice this time I hear the shrill whine.
“What is it bird? Is something wrong? You worry me to no extent!”
“Chirp, Chirp. Chirp, Chirp.” The simple reply sent.

Suddenly two bird dive out of the pine and join a third on a birch.
“You silly bird, you found a friend, and a third with whom you perch.”
“Chirp, Chirp. Chirp, Chirp. Chirp, Chirp.” The three sing together.
“Are you going to just sit there and chirp forever?”

I look away laughing at these birds with nothing better to do
And all of the sudden see more birds arrive, an incredible view.
The tree becomes crowded with light green leaves chirping to no end.
Then one by one they fall off, and soon I stand staring at my last little friend.

“Chirp, Chirp.” He pronounces as he bids adieu.
“Chirp, Chirp.” I say, “and for teaching me this, thank you.”

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