A bunch of sparrows chatting in a shrub
fell silent as you walked with your dog by,
as if the chit-chat in their gossip hub
were secret, and you maybe were a spy.
When you had passed, their lively talk resumed
as though they knew you couldn’t overhear
the confidential morsels they consumed
because your dog and you were now not near.
But little did they know that though you heard,
you couldn’t understand what they had said,
as you don’t speak the language of a bird,
so you can switch from yours to theirs instead.
The birds don’t know what they don’t know, and you
can’t understand a lot – like their words – too.
Mario A. Pita