Back in Los Angeles in early August the neighborhood birds are not as active as when I left on the last day of May. Before I left, this is what I heard:
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A sparrow hops along the edge of a rooftop
with the inertia of a pebble skipping over a glass lake.
The wind meets a tree and it’s branches sway
greeting the wind with spinning leaves
and together,
wind and tree,
they sing.
The sparrow listens and hops once more
this time off of the rooftop into the arms of the wind
and together,
sparrow and wind,
they sing.
The sparrow lands on the swaying branch,
mid duet with the wind,
and the branch sways with the inertia from the sparrow
and together,
in three part harmony,
tree, wind and sparrow,
they sing.
I sit up and look around
curious if there are others in the audience.
I see a man pushing a stroller,
a woman delivering food,
a young couple
walking hand-in-hand.
It seems that no one else
caught the show.
I feel the wind stop
and I look up at the branch.
The sparrow is gone.
And yet I hear singing still.
I look back toward the street
and together
a man, a woman, and a young couple
sing.
I smile,
sip the last of my coffee,
and walk inside my apartment,
singing.
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©2020 Gregory Allison