99poems/ittybird

Little bitty birds
in the trees,
the branches bob
with the weight
of their movement,
soundless
through glass.
I open my window
to hear their peeps.
How I have missed
the sound of the fields.
Winter.
I hear my music
playing, the thunk
of the heater
as I adjust
the thermostat,
the drip of the kitchen faucet,
the loud howl
of a hungry cat,
some days the washing machine,
and then the dryer.
With the windows
closed it’s easy
to forget
birds.

1/22/99