Chattering birds in an
overgrown bush
near a Victorian cottage…I
stopped
to identify the birds and
their song. (Wrens)
As soon as it was clear that
I remained below, a threat,
the chatter changed into a
back and forth warning.
Branch to branch, lower to
upper. I moved along.
Across the street, an
entirely different and joyous bird
was singing in the sundown. I paused.
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