A bird in a tree on the cliffs
ignores the grumble of traffic from the bridge.
His song cuts through the thin air at dusk
like an ice cream truck alone at the park.
He’s early this spring.
A bird in a tree on the cliffs
ignores the grumble of traffic from the bridge.
His song cuts through the thin air at dusk
like an ice cream truck alone at the park.
He’s early this spring.
