The big leafy tree is full of birds

And many of them have something to say.

There are at least a hundred bird-voices.

They are all talking at once, filibustering, advancing arguments, proclaiming availability, squabbling over details, celebrating the rising of the Sun, denouncing Interlopers, and ruffling each other’s feathers.

Suddenly it calms down to a few. And unoccluded birdsong becomes finer than noise, sweet and fluidic.

A bird flies off.

Two birds begin a mating dance. One will later commemorate the occasion with a clutch of eggs.

Answering a summons from afar, many fly around

Then away.