He says it sounds like dewdrops,
a bright and rounded pew pew pew,
and then I hear it. His human dupe
not meager, but contextualizing.
I see the cardinal bright as a mouth
of lipstick amid winter-colded trees.
He uses an app to divine their songs
that I call Bird Shazam.
April remains diffident, half exhaled:
after six midwestern springs, I should
expect this, but each time it surprises.
Northeastern childhood seasons more
meticulous, specific;
global warming has not helped, but
midwest flatness seems most relevant.
I have found talk of weather not
small for Chicagoans, though this might
have more to do with aging than geographies.
Feel the difference between climate and weather:
the former what we expect, the latter what we get.
Cornell Lab mimics the cardinal song as
cheer, cheer, cheer, what, what, what, what.
