Small Wonders
by Anna Yin

My great-grandma once told me
there is a Life Tree in the East
where birds sing all seasons.

I’ve long forgotten it
or lost faith in it.
Sitting beside my gilded screen,
to forge a song thrush,
a button is what I need to click.
Yet the singing from this magic
fails to bring the story back.

This morning, into Bulls Point Loop
where Lake Ontario is near
and Six Nations people once looked out,
I pause at birds’ signs and tiny feeders.

Colourful and beautiful in still poses,
each teaches me a name: American Goldfinch,
Rose-breasted Grosbeak, Blue Jay, Cardinal,
Scarlet Tanager, Red-tailed Thrush,
and Yellow Warbler...

“Morning, little birds”
I call out, my eyes
searching into the deep.
Among lush leaves and rosy buds,
I cannot trace their flight. But
I hear song after song,
full of joy, full of freedom,
burst from them,
burst from myself.

“Morning, little birds”
a world of small wonders,
we sing to each other.