He perched and his baton beak
led the orchestral nature of things.
Back and forth it swung.

A minute ago his wings hummed
at 80fps (80 flaps per second)
to keep a pudgy belly afloat and filled.

Then I heard chirp chattering
between two of them.
Over the hum a bickering banter.

I prayed for a translation.
“Translation is for the birds.
Foreign language sings just fine,

don’t you think?”
I hummed, nodded,
and listened to the duet.