Sitting on a mesh garden chair stained by old bird poo
Listening to the neighbours’ kids crying over something or other
Listening to the morning glory of birds chatting to one another
I know they’re a-chatting
One whistle and after a second or two the other whistles back
There are other birds chatting, but these two are distinct
It’s like listening to my girlfriend and me chatting
We give each other a few seconds to reply
We chat for hours over unimportant matters
We have been chatting like this for well over twenty-four years
And listening to these two birds there was something familiar
The same pitch of whistling from one to the other
I can’t see them because the garden trees now have beautiful green leaves
I have listening for about 20 minutes
No sound of them stopping anytime soon
It’s quite beautiful really
Me listening
Me being this silent for this long without uttering a word, first thing in the morning
It’s times like this I need to remind myself ‘Just listen’

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