The warbling chorus of clear-throated winged-things
defends against a melancholy mind’s unease.
Ornithographic melodies, unmeasured and terse,
blend soothingly well with swift currents of air
and carry on in each day-long verse.
What a pair for solitude, these two:
the field-rolling wind, shuffling past on cue,
and the lilting conversation of birds,
tittering with a bree-chirrup-dreedle;
full of meaning though void of words.