relative

it was still early morning when the bluebird flew drowsliy around a stone pillar and lit down by the sparrow. the birds exchanged greetings and events as they had transpired between meetings. as the key of the sparrow's song changed, the bluebird's heart gave a twang of remembrance of a song that she herself had sung not too distantly. throughout the day the song became all the more clear and the little bird had a hard time not humming the tune herself. to her, the song was past, and bringing it back would only hurt. as another jay had told her, he wasn't her type, and she'd best just get over it. still, the cold refrain of a penguin has its moments of appeal.