When it seemed nothing could be normal any more,
the birds came back.
The birds came back and hopped and whistled and nested
in the blossoming trees.
They soared on half home wind currents,
dipped their toes in striving waves.
The birds came back and pooed on passers by,
and this time it had a slightly different meaning,
and the curtain twitchers smiled.
Amid the fear and the pain and the mistrust,
the birds came back and roosted outside bedroom windows,
woke early the irritable people.
The birds came back and wondered with their bird brains
at the wonder of year round shelter.
They flapped their wing batons to conduct the orchestra of chicks,
and to replace the bass rumble of engines they formed alliances.
The birds came back and played in the streets of the air,
and there they stayed until they went again.