Night Birds

When the night birds come out,
the long day is
finally done —
that sunny stuff of miracles
except when pain renders
all that light insufferable.

When the night birds come out,
I can cease my wincing,
I can relent at last
and wander freely.

When the night birds come out,
rattling the hedges,
singing night songs and tweeting,
the neighbors can be seen
through their windows, reading.

When the night birds come out,
the world is a delicious,
deepening blue. They hoot
and holler with self-satisfaction
at the view.

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