Found Things

I forget the difference:
Birds and People

The people in the other room
Whose faces I never see, I hear
That they have nose rings
Or blonde hair, features that hold
a swift confidence, a light and flexible neck
Whatever their faces, I know
Their voices; muffled squeaks and squabbles
that come quickly beneath the door
And through whatever spaces
our walls allow.

I forget the difference:
Birds and People
Sewing nests out of found things like
shoe lace or poetry or feathers or melody.