At Least

At least I can hear the birds sing

Through cloud and mist and changing sun

Their melodies hopeful shining true

As if Spring can change a thing

As if a Song can change our fate

There's something amiss in the air and sky

The smell of smoke insists its true

Gray that hangs and clings all day

Towers rise and fall in time

Shining glass framed in steel

Now jagged fragments of what remains

Where birds perch on twisted ends

And watch the theatre of man below

Repeat again and again til the end