Thick clouds hung low

on a freezing, charcoal day,

the first such one of that winter.

Dozens of palm-sized birds

flitted from one bare branch to another,

no doubt, helped along by the strong wind.

She gazed from the fingerprinted window,

captured by the freedom of winged beings

whose arrival had been announced

by a one-note song.

For now, she remained safe and warm,

but something about that bitter, winter morn

made her believe she could endure

the length of coming days

of cold and clouds and lack of comfort

as long as she sang a simple song.