Birdsong

Through the closed curtains, and the closed windows, I hear the birds of morning. Shocked into sudden tunefulness by the belated spring, they suddenly seem much noisier than previous years - or perhaps they only seem so compared to the months of silence over this long winter. I don't know what kind of birds they are - some sound like early summers back in Ickenham, others like cold and misty mornings in Forres. Strangely, the only birds I don't seem to hear are seagulls.