In the morning, my little, red friend visits me

He flies over to a tree and perches his body on it

He clamps his feet around the branch for security

Just a few feet away from my window

Sometimes, there is a worm in his mouth

Other times, there isn’t

Sometimes, he brings along a friend

Other times, he brings only himself

We chat over the weather and the morning sun

I speak in a language that he cannot understand

While he sings a tune that I cannot understand

My words, his notes, our conversations, our time

In the afternoon, my little, red friend leaves me

He flies away from my window and goes towards the clouds

He flaps his wings to lift his body higher and higher in the air

He is a sky’s-length away from me now

Sometimes, he is joined by a friend

Other times, he travels alone

Sometimes, he turns right

Other times, he turns left

We go about our day and do our own things

I take care of my human family at home

While he looks for his bird family in the forest

My home, his search, our families, our lives

In the nighttime, my little, red friend returns

He flies over to the same tree and rests his body on it

He clamps his feet around the same branch for security

Just a few feet away from my window again

Sometimes, he has songs to sing

Other times, he has stories to tell

Sometimes, he brings a gift

Other times, he brings only himself

We talk about our day and the setting sun

I speak in a language that he cannot understand

While he sings a tune that I cannot understand

My words, his notes, our conversations, our day