I did not know enough about you yet
other than how you appeared that day
your kind, a bird, not a crow or a robin or a gull
but a thing with wings standing deep in a tree
staring back at me, not a starling or a chickadee
but a bird, one of all the birds in the world that day
the song that I gave you to sing was my way
of saying to myself that what I was seeing was real
that you were here for a reason, to teach me something
that I was real and you were a bird
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