Two Little Red Birds

This morning, on a Sunday early in spring, as I was taking my coffee and thinking of life as I often do, I spotted two little red cardinals outside my living room window. This window overlooks a courtyard, and the view beholds a couple of leafless trees; though make no mistake: there shall be green leaves, and lush, in no time at all. But my window, in this moment, is ajar, and I can smell the fresh spring air, and hear the sounds of tiny and happily uttered cheaps.

It is the little red birds that say cheap cheap, as they dance and fly and play with one another. What they offer to me in so doing, is an upgraded view outside my window: rapid flashes of red, one in concise succession after the next. All the while, the sound of cheap cheap, not unlike what you would expect to hear from a nest of newly hatched little mouths to feed. Do their wings get tired? How long do they jest in the courtyard before they bore of the backdrop, and heed a pursuit for more?  

What they say might be cheap, but what I hear is priceless. Spring has finally arrived, it's true.