and the day before: it's happening.
It's so simple, I hardly need any language.
Right there, through the window.
And in the trees, hardly visible, the birds
are back and going about their own business.
Do they remember their long journey, the tall glass buildings,
the telephone poles, the wires?
Are they singing for the ones who are absent?
Are they, like me, singing to welcome the dawn?
While everyone else in my family is sleeping,
the city is taken over by their song.
