A chorus of bird song swells
from across the square.
“Oh, that must be the bird market!”
Delighted, we quicken our pace,
striding forward, purposefully,
anticipating an avian wonderland.
Following the song,
we turn the corner,
and the volume spikes.
Rows of tents and vendors,
decorative cages,
bird paraphernalia,
and birds, birds, birds
line the cobbled lane.
Colorful plumage pops
on this dreary day:
Golden yellow, vibrant green,
bold, blushing red.
Parrots, parakeets
Cockatiels and finches
fluttering, flapping,
perching or clinging to the bars,
in short bursts
of truncated movement.
Their eyes follow us,
as we, bound to earth,
wander freely amongst them.
Their chirps, trills, whistles, and squawks,
intertwine to create a symphony that
soars gracefully in the moist, morning air,
defying boundaries.
A caged song,
amplified by their quantity.
A beautiful sorrow.