Do you hear the birds, they live quiet lives.
They burrow inside trees and collect
heirlooms from old buried roots and well-loved leaves,
cherishing dirt and hand-me-down nests.

Do you hear the birds, they live fleeting lives.
The fledglings mark their names
against the grain of wood and wait for summer migration.
They soon find their way away.

Do you hear the birds, they live full lives.
They wake before dawn and frolic
during afternoons humid and lazy
when they’ve outgrown their feathers.

Do you hear the birds, they live their lives.
Do you count their silhouettes against the sky.
Do you hear it, when the sun is setting,
what childhood sounds like when it’s leaving.