In lieu of leaves

By -
The empty trees were a cacophony 
of little lungs, blaring 
birds; black, speckled, sparrow.

Not for the first time
I see February leaves are feathers —
barren branches space for bodies
round in the empty white 'v's

but the sound — 
I could sit in that sound
over a million city
crowds

loud thin beaks nestled
in my head
I am me and
I am me

they sing —
no pushing 
just diagonal words, 
twigs on twigs.

C. LJ Ireton, 2026

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