Birdsong

Tweet, tweet, the song,
It goes.
And like a mighty river,
It surrounds. It flows.

The feathers flutter downward
With each tiny gust
And the birdsong chases after
Like it always must.

The whistles cut through air
And they reach me near, or far,
Supplanting the squawks or squalor
Of the radio in my car.

And the birdsong is my favorite.
I hold it high above,
For the birdsong sings sweetly
Of my Little Bird's love.