This sparkling wine is all but empty.nToo late for trains and no taxis.nI know the feeling. Seems all too contrived.nThere was no master plan but the fact is:nYou must stay with me and learn the secret language of birds.nnA tentative dawn about to be breakingnOn a Rousseau garden with monkeys in hiding.nThe truth of the matter, yet to be spokennIn words on which everything, everything's riding.nNow stay with me and learn the secret language of birds.nnCircled by swallowsnIn a world for the weary.nCourted by warblers; wicked and eloquent trilling.nnLie in the stillness, window cracked open.nExtended moments, hours for the taking.nCareless hair on the pillow, a bold brushstroke.nPainted verse with a chorus in waiting.nStay with me and learn the secret language of birds.