Dawns come with birds and their strains
Dusks when they return to their place.
Between them stands time in gaze
Poring at the toils in make.
Together, they fly and trill in flock
Apart they have these, halt and block.
Time comes when they return home
To nestle and sing the tales of roam
Like birds who drift to come back again
I wish our flight would, like flocks, remain.