Birds

 
They bounce about

Like little things

On springs.

Should anyone surprise

Them,

All at once they rise

Up into the trees.

Their chatter

Cannot be without

Importance -

Ideas that matter

To them.

Paused on a trapeze

Hidden in the leaves.

They twitter

Or they trill

Sounds whose language still

Eludes us all our lives.

They sing

Their songs a moment.

Then launch away

Into the embracing day.

To see them fly

Gives a soon gone likeness

Of when we die.