Day 179

A child lies on the floor of a hospital.
She is staring up at the ceiling, listening
to the sound of so many voices, trying to find
among them one voice that is familiar.
They make a din like the buzzing of insects
on a day in summer,
a quiet day, blowing grasses, light wind.
If she closes her eyes she can almost remember
one bird she heard singing
from a  branch on a high tree under an unbroken sky.