Welcome To My Bed

What I think about when it is summer in March.

The birds woke me up before the sun did.  My street has this strange way about, like a radio dial is being turned and turned, never resting on a station for more than a moment.  I've gotten excellent at recognizing songs in a single heart beat.  I am also terrific at sleeping through all that white noise.  But the birds.  They are a new addition to the soundscape.  My neighbors let their children out into the yard long before the school bus and they play like dogs, yapping and fighting and speaking nonsense.  In a month, I'll be gone from here.  New apartment.  New, strange heat to take in through the open window.