Birds sing, they sing from the trees.
Birds call to their lovers to return to the nest.
The morning air is filled with their songs.
Birds sing for themselves not for me.
But their song rings joyfully in my ears.
Birds sing to their lovers to return to the nest.
They are not singing for me.
William Frank Bellais
From 180th Meridian and Other Poems and Reflections, 2912. Create Space.
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