Early morning, the trill
with a buzz, is weighted toward the beak,
tail twitching, side to side,
underside barred: my friendly wren.
The click in the heavy heat of summer
the bright flame on winter day or hidden in shade
the silent rustle, the graying double,
steady chew, chew, chew, encouraging tweets:
my pair of nesting cardinals.
Nightfall, the flump, flump of wings plop down,
or rise up to say who, who: mourning dove's lament
songs by which to sleep and dream.