name the songbird

The city of Queens once again branches far and wide beneath her, still lively and loud and warm and crowded just like she remembers. But it’s different. She can smell so many scents, taste so many things, hear so many sounds now—feel so many vibrations, all carried on the cool wind that flows up to her, so high up, and into her senses.She can taste fried bread, hot coffee, and cooked meat. She can smell leather and cotton and brass and steel and trash. She can hear yells and giggles and conversations. She can feel songs and tunes and hums and words and phrases and so many feelings. So many emotions. So many people.It’s all so fresh, and new. But it’s all the same old song that she’s been listening to all her life. It’s all she’s been singing since she’s been on this planet, on this Earth, in this city. In this life. Maybe this is who she is. Life itself.