304–Bird Music

here the morning sounds are

garbage trucks mixed with

birds squawking or tweeting

according to their individual

birdness my birdness squawks

a lot but there are mornings

so sweet in communion with

you my song must rival the

sweetest bird’s they have

taught me to sing in all these

seemingly god-forsaken places

where in reality you perform

your deepest music suburbs

were made for machines and

asphalt listening beyond sound

i hear skimming over

the roads a hum of love

and light unknown to the

marvelous sea

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