You’re here on my window sill with no intention of flying away, so I thought now would be a good time to talk about this big world you’ve recently joined.
One day you’re going to fly high up into the tree towering above this house. There’s a cement slab to the north, it too is under the big tree you’ll spend most of your time in. On that slab there will be boxes humans call ‘cars’. Your parents bring shame upon themselves often by defecating on the seemingly clear part of these ‘cars’.
Be better than your parents, bird.