Listening to Birds
She asked me why
caged birds sing
when home
is a prison
or
it looks that way
to us.
I couldn’t tell her,
not for sure.
She asked me why
humming birds hum,
if it was their song,
I said it was a work sound
made by their wings
a sound of struggle
and survival,
a sound you can hear,
made by a movement so fast
you can’t see it.
So nothing is as it seems.
”Do they still sing?
I must listen more carefully,” she said.
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