A Little Nothing

Outside My Window~

A bird chirps, no chatters.
The dusk sets in but still it shouts.
What does it speak about?

Then silence, but others,
more distant take up,
the call that the first had begun.

Now together, they sing,
with the cool breeze...

With a symphony of dystrophy,
the neighborhood noises clatter,
but the dusk is glad.


~Birdy