AVIARY

My husband enjoys the windows drawn open every evening to allow a fresh breeze into our home. Along with the breeze comes profane gang-banger music, as each truck with its windows down rolls to a stop at the corner outside our home. Then at six o'clock on the dot the birds come. A church primary song decived me when I was taught, "In the leafy tree tops the birds sing good morning." As a flock of a hundred birds descend on our home each morning they don't sing the sweet anthems of morning but sound more like the screetching torments of a dying soul. I am thinking about moving into the National Aviary up the street because I feel like there I will get more sleep.

Love,

Me