Trees fluttering with the call
Of birds at dusk remind me
That all creatures, big and small
Need a roosting place called home.
We, like 10 birds on a branch,
(18, if we count the chicks)
Jostle, screech our news daily
Of flights that day, worms we catch.
We know which tree to fly to
A special space among friends
Making this tree home, not that
And so..., but so..., just so..., if
My fellow feathered friends choose
Other trees on other shores
If I'm left one bird alone
Can I still call this tree home?
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