Songbirds, Statues, Mines, and Meteors

From just outside your atmosphere
You take pictures of tiny streaks

Falling and burning. Somewhere down
On the ground below those needles,

Teams of men are digging metals.
Teams of police investigate

Who’s placing pro-democracy
Figurines of small goddesses

In public spaces overnight.
Songbirds, diminishing daily,

Sing not far from the mining camps
And in the parks where police find

More statues hidden in the trees.
Does a songbird’s brain take notice

Of rare, sudden needles of light,
Or is it too sleepy at night?