voices like birds

he murmured
and she replied
as they walked up the sidewalk.
it was a saturday night -
their voices carried
to the windows of houses
and around the shrubs
and disappeared
in the clean air
below the yellow moon
who wore a scarf of mist
and a hat of cloud -
it was that cold.
the little boy
behind a window
tucked in bed
beneath a quilt
heard the voices
floating near.
The words weren't familiar -
he knew not what they said
but the trickle of conversation
up and down and pause and start
sounded like birds in a tree
warm in their feather coats
content in the cold bright night
and the boy slid -
all is calm -
to sleep.