The summertime birds are back,
the ones who breed in the northland.
All day I heard the white-throated sparrow
sing old man, peabody-peabody-peabody.
In the field guide, they say it
pure sweet, canada-canada-canada.
Like iambic pentameter or a Limerick,
always that rhythm, whatever the words.
I wonder what words you hear
behind the harmonies we sing together.