The birds arrived in May. I had not noticed their absence before but I noticed their arrival. Their varied songs vibrated throughout the house. I woke up to them, watching them brunch out my office window, and celebrated their vibrant colors as they would prune themselves and danced among the trumpet vines and azaleas. A momma bird made a nest of twigs, pine-needles, and trash outside my kitchen window and I discreetly watch her while doing dishes. For a long time she would sit contentedly on her little eggs. Then eventually her little eggs became little mouths. She would fly away in the morning and I felt my spirit lighten with her song, as if the wings might inspire it to take flight.