the birds didn't leave this winter 

they didn't fly south

like so many of our neighbors

they stayed and sang

roosted in the winterberry bush

where we watched and listened

from our small round kitchen table

fluffy bodied tiny things

holding on to the bare bones

of a bush that should have been pruned long ago

everything exposed

waiting for the mighty sun to gain 

length and strength once again

and still they sing 

xo