Small chirpy birds discuss the weather
And whether or not it will rain all day
Or break apart expected depressions
With lapses of sunshine, warmth,
Peace, even; though birds sing
Whether they are up or down
And as long as they can
Feel their throats
Local crows disrupt the wandering
Discussion with crass rebuttals
That winter always comes, that men take down trees
And won’t plant new ones
As if they can get along without
The bugs, the bird’s nests, the mess
Of leaves and twigs and crow
As if interrupting, busyness, chattering
Talking, talking, talking, talking
Aren’t what builds the real world
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