The rite of spring is singing louder.
Louder than my computer fan.
The blue jays are shouting.
The robins are talking over the fence.
The sparrows and chickadees are speed dialing.
This is the first spring in the country.
The window is cupped open.
My ears are too,
and the sounds send me back
to a dead end street of so much traffic.
Starlings would bounce from shrub to shrub.
Plump orange bellies would bow and pull up breakfast.
I could almost hear baby-blue
Oh how I miss my mother brooding over us.
© Gerald Allen Barrett and parentheticallyspeakingin3d, 2012.