Still the Birds Sing

The bug looks like a small black Volkswagen
driving in circles on the wooden railing;
suddenly, a flying car.

The birds sing and the wind blows and the sun shines
and the dandelions grow in the recently cut grass;
yellow dots pock the green grass.

A female cardinal swoops to the bird feeder,
then a finch,
reds and browns and grays and seed debris drops down,
and the birds sing, melodious.

The sky milks blue
and clouds float
and branches sway from the trees.

The birds multitudinous sing antiphonally--
          call, response, recall.

Light shadows the ground.
Still the birds sing.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2020


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