Three birds

Three chirping birds greet me

And an evening breeze descends to meet me.

And even though I can’t reply

I greet them back by walking by.

 

And as I continue to walk

I hear the rustling bushes talk

In a language I could never speak,

To their gentle welcomes every week.

 

And nearing home, I wonder now

If I could correspond somehow.

But I could not grasp to such perfection

Nature’s soft yet low inflection.

 

I ask myself, does it matter

That i can’t return the squirrel’s chatter.

Or chime into idyl chat

With next door neighbour’s tabby cat.

 

And then I’m home, my favourite place,

Wrap myself in warm embrace,

And think, whatever strangeness has occurred

The best talks utter not one word.