I’ve wondered … is it possible that birds have Reserved Parking spots on telephone wires?

On most of my early morning walks, a song sparrow sings from the wire along the street, always at the same spot, early in my route. The sweet notes are especially lovely in the quiet morning air, and I find myself looking forward to just those few seconds of song.

Maybe God parks him there to remind me of something that I am learning.

The thoughts, in a different format this morning:

The sparrow’s song hems our seaside cottage
    with cheerful notes,
tireless, from one rosa rugosa to another,
    trilling a border of song around our days.

But here in this idyllic spot,
    beside murmuring tides and sun-sparkled waters,
I don’t want an ordinary song sparrow.
    Give me something more exotic.

A seaside sparrow, for instance —
    that’s what I wish our bestower of song to be.

Can’t I have a seaside sparrow?

But he’s a song sparrow, that’s certain;
    and when I accept that, then I can hear
the sweetness of the unwavering song–

even when from the forsythia in the corner of the yard
come the soft notes and buzz of the seaside sparrow.