
their song
five-thirty a.m. birds
chirping full-throated,
greeting first light
in amiable harmony
beyond them
town’s rumble
rubber on pavement
jetliners lumber
into flight
what was their tiny
songbird reaction
when their loud-mouthed
cousins lifted off ground
and first took to the air—
did they feel invaded?
for millions of years
it had been their space
now shared
with metal-slick bullies
they did what birds do—
against a background
of thundering diesel,
feed and mate
build their nests
care for young
and watch them fledge
greet every dawn
unperturbed
2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.