early morning songbirds

in the early morning their songs fill the air. singing, humming of last nights secrets. clear and resonate they travel with the morning wind to the ears of those around them. some of their songs resemble the trickle of a near empty waterfall, some the soft rustling of leaves across the ground, and others the shining cries of dawns last stars. on and on they sing their songs merging their stories into one big composition. weaving their sounds in and out they create a fabric of harmony that completed tells the tales of long ago.

this is what they are after, these children, these collectors of birds. the never-ending story of the past, of the future, of all time. they’ve gotten pieces of it here and there listening to each individual bird sing their song. however, they knew that the great myth of time was revealed only when they all sang at once, in a symphony of sound.