the birds have chirped since before I can easily recall – 

Precambrian calls, 

they make no claims to hearing voices of deities or visions of supreme beings, on branches,

oblivious to urban town planning, submarine schematics, the Dow Jones or jazz

they swoop down for worms or cigarette butts and off they fly blowing smoke rings 

and who knows what they get up to at 4:42am when we have shut down and lay defenceless, 

wrestling with chimeras and unconscious thoughts  trapped in the dark 


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