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.