This morning, the birds did not sing. They haven't done so since I wrote that poem about their song.

P said they're sad. Are they on somewhere else's tree now? Or are they just there on our caimito, sitting still, looking down at me through our bedroom window?

I'm so sorry. I was very upset when I wrote that. But it's done, isn't it? Let me make it up to you. Please sing for me again.