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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