Tricks of the Trade
You
hop, run, and flutter
to the morning you bring,
as I behold another spring
and the youth of your ways.
You
live in litter,
in the clutter of others’ lives
as they surround you.
You come to me in your time.
Your chirps punctuate the dawn
and harmonize
with the time left to you—
to your instinct, you’re true.
Even
when you hide
I take your song,
a gift to me, but something you do,
and I try to learn your simple ways,
the tricks of the trade.
—Mike Bayles
