More song than sight,
the birds when trees are leafy green,
Hidden and yet
I recognize each one of them,

The air has begun to remember Fall,
a ritual this progression of the seasons,
Not until the colors fade
and every leaf has made its leap of faith
will the birds reveal their hidden nests,

Then, all too soon,
they will be gone ’til Spring,
all but the sparrow and the wren
that grace my sill with song
through all the seasons.

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