The Returning Birds

Walking through the park, I paused as a sound broke through the stillness—a trill, high and clear. I scanned the bare trees until I spotted it: a robin, its red breast vivid against the gray branches.

An elderly man seated on a bench nearby chuckled at my surprise. “First one of the season, eh?” he said.

I nodded. “I didn’t think they’d be back so soon.”

“They know before we do,” he replied. “The earth whispers it to them – the days grow longer, the warmth creeps in, and they return to remind us that nothing is truly lost. The song of spring begins here.”

I lingered, listening to the robin’s call, the sound lifting my spirits with its quiet hope.