It is your birthday, again, and I have nothing
to say, again, except that

I cried briefly in the car today after
getting off the phone with Mom, though I never

thought to do anything weird, like run
my car into a pole or the ditch.

I wondered if you knew
any of what I was thinking, and then,

as you know,
I considered the birds for a moment,

sunning themselves in puddles near
the underpass.

Brett Elizabeth Jenkins