Breakfast on the Patio

We were still slurping the morning breeze
when a sun-shaped blimp passing over us
started to rain down eggs
on the field beyond the patio.
Some fell on the table and broke
open to release full-fledged songbirds
with night-colored wings.

As soon as they started to sing,
a forest of strong, silent trees
rose out of the ground to listen.
Without clearing up the mess on the table
we betook ourselves into the woods,
calling to one another. We're still lost, though
we come back to roost on the patio every night.

--Paul Sohar