The Next Lord Of The Central City.
The birdsong was the river of the air, a flowing music that hydrated our parched souls.
Into the gentle airwaves they gave their song, those tiny friends of feather that adorned the sky.
Birdsong comes sweet and high, the soprano to the other sounds of the daytime. I feel them as auditory smiles and expressions of joy, those communications of the birds.
Through my bedroom window comes the brightness of the dayshine, that boldness that lifts my spirits. The chorus of the birds drifts in as steady ocean waves, only their melody is dancing. In a moment the tune can fly so high and resettle, an auditory version of how they play upon wing. I move toward it, feeling the light reach my skin and my
Sikat na Kabanata