Loneliness is an early bird

Perched atop an autumn tree
Squawking for attention at closed windows
At bleary-eyed commuters waiting
At night-owls cursing into pillows
Saying look at me look at me look at me

I tried to find the damn bird perched
In the safety of its throne of yellow leaves
Shield my eyes against the light sky
Squint at shuffling branches and 
Could not find it for the life of me

So it kept calling and calling
To its helpless unwilling audience
And we can only long for it to end 
Without knowing how to make it stop
Till we forget to take a look

And realise that where the bird stands 
Is a tree in bloom quiet and shy despite 
Its flowing mane of burnished sunset
And we forget to witness beauty
In the way the tree reaches out 

To us with its tender falling leaves
To comfort us in our solitude
And remind us of the companion world
Beyond the insistent birdsong 
Of loneliness.