The first time i heard your call,
i was sitting on the edge of the bed
of my living/dying father.
“Who is that I asked?”
Oh darling Starling, i thought you were native to Boston, like we were.
“you too are an immigrant,” came the reply.
This mourning morning, I heard You again,
far far from Beantown.
The earth is round.
We are all natives now.
Let us learn each other’s calls