when it is dark. They are loud and make beautiful sounds. I cannot seem them. I don’t know who they are. They chirp and whistle in long and short bursts. The long bursts are melodic; the short, high and static. I wonder if they speak to each other and assume that they do. I have been trying to hear patterns but my ears aren’t attuned. I would like to learn a bit of their language. I am curious about their extended conversations. I would like to ask what it is like to live in a tree and build your own home from the very first twig. What I am truly dying to know is how does it feel to fly? How does it feel when you spread your wings and have the wind scoop you up into the sky? I suppose birds don’t see it the same as I do. There is nothing to wonder about for the bird, how sad. They fly because they can and they must. It’s nothing more than a practical matter. We walk, too, because we must; pure mechanics. I think we wish we could fly because we are intrinsically built to dream; that is magic, and sacred. There is no off switch. Who or what put it in us? The natural process of evolution or by divine design; may be both are one in the same? Do birds dream?