the delicate networks of our nerves
lie exposed to cold gusts of morning wind,
like the branches of so many trees
whose leaves have fallen to the frozen ground.
even so, silhouettes of twilight birds
try to find one another in song;
distant dark dots against the early gray sky,
they know to follow these choral connections.
they cry for food and love.
nature has schooled them to sing.
their cries are the sweetest sounds.
the morning sky is full of these songs.