Birdsong gathers into flocks
Perches on power lines
Speaks in hushed bird tones
Or group-swoops the air
A choreographed bird of birds
In synchronized aerobatics
That fold and unfold
Like a checkered flag

Sometimes a smaller group breaks away
A little revolution
Flying off at an angle
To destinations unknown

The bird-bird disassembles itself
And lands in fifty branches of a tree

There maybe they anticipate or discuss
Departure times or review routes and possible
Hazards they may Encounter as they journey
South to escape
The snow

Then the hush will fall
Birdsong will consist of only
The blare of the blue jay
Cawing of crows
And the subdued music of chickadees

Winter crows roost
In a narrow strip of trees
Hundreds of them
Each day before dawn
Singing their crow song  
In waves from end to end
Of the flock
And no one sleeps
For blocks around

In the spring the birds return singly
Males do battle for nesting sites
The music of their desire
Loud in all the suitable trees
Females choose the most appealing
Male song
And so the pair is made

Softer music greets each summer morning
And changes in the evening
With sweet reluctance releasing
Each warm, sweet day
A song for the coming storm
A different song for rain
A song for hot sun
Until the sunsets sooner come
And the birds of change
Fly again as one

-- Tom Rubenoff