Deep in a forest I lie silent
on a bed of thick, prickly moss
Birds communicate the urgency
of sex
Whistles and whispers
Caws and croaks
Peeps and pips
A fat slow bumblebee trundles by
on its way to the food bank of wildflowers
I search for the source of each sound
expecting colorful tiny birds but
what I see are the big ones
The crows and ravens
buzzards and hawks
The sound winks out at once
as a falcon glides silently to a branch
Committing no death
but to the birdsong.
