Overnight, the maple’s red buds burst,
freeing their tiny leaves to reach for the sky,
etching a scarlet lace against the deep blue
where days ago, there were but bare twigs.
And from one of the high branches, a call
sounded forth, clear and high, a single note
followed by a pause and then repeated.
From across the way, an answer came,
filling the pauses, and waiting for a reply.
Back and forth the two birds called
to one another, as if their sole mission
was to mark the opening of the buds.
And their song went on and on.