Birdsong

Canary sings
from the dark mine
until the candle
goes out.

A robin sings
from his perch, his bush
until his light, his shine,
ends.

I go on and on
chattering until
I stop. Then
I start again.

Day or night
I start, I stop.
I begin, I end.
Opening, closing.

When will it end?
Has it begun? Ask
Canary and Robin
how they feel.

They live too short
to compete. If this a game,
I win. A marathon?
I finished. But

if I won? What if
I won? Who cares?
They left singing while I
fell silent, and the songs

fell silent until
other birds took them up
and raised them again
and I stayed silent, marvelling.