My house has a yard. The yard has a tree. The tree has a birdhouse, and me.

I’d watch for hours at night, the tree with its house. Wondering if my birds would fly south. If they wouldn’t fly if I put out a few palm trees on their house.

They stayed in the birdhouse with its tree and me.

And when I flew north, they came to see.

Me with a tree, a birdhouse, and history.

@ Roche Harbor, join my bird, my tree, and me.