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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 whistles 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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