Sounds of Three Visitors To My Garden

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.