The evening speaksA Chapter by Eilis
It is all about perspective,
I guess. The bird’s voice hits off the angles and soffits between these houses, and I can imagine him to be anywhere. Spring-bud knees straightening, offering every inch of song he has curled up in his lungs. The sun scoots behind the neighbor’s house like a child hiding from a stranger who has just entered his home. The last rays are still clinging to the roof like fingertips holding the body, from sinking too far. Dear bird, little invisible, voice that magnifies you, and denies smallness, please do not stop singing. © 2026 EilisAuthor's Note
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Added on July 24, 2019Last Updated on January 5, 2026 |

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