But every beginning is only a continuation and the book of fate is always open in the middle.

-Wislawa Szymborska in "Love At First Sight"

[a] Till yesterday in the rain (How does rain murmur In that country of yours?) One could only hear The lone voice of a wood Thrush, calling out in its Flutelike voice, A question followed by An uncertain answer, Deep in the emerald summer Woods, over and over.

[b] This changed today, When two song sparrows Flew under the overhang Above the west window Chirping to one another, A melodic conversation as they ferried Bits of wet grass, a length of thread, Black twigs somewhere to the heights Beyond any line of sight.

[c] Two other sparrows, each of whom had Wondered if they were solitary Wood thrushes for so long, also met Today, under the rafters of clouds, In the overhang of rain, And sang out in a three note song, A new beginning from the book of fate, which was lying open at a poem.