all day i thought about them, the birds. what they see, how. we say the visible spectrum and leave out the bit about visible to whom. don’t take anything for granted someone told me once, and i did anyway. i did anyway, but today i’m thinking of them, those birds, and the colours they see that i can’t. my mind can’t even make them, those colours: do they taste of mint? do they sound like the crash of cymbals, shine like shook foil?

or do they feel like what love feels like, when it comes.