He’s somewhere up there in the just-budding 
leaves of the maple,

I am straining my neck, tracing every outstretched branch
and twig; I can’t spot him anywhere

and now he is unspooling his notes stronger than ever.
I give up searching, 

decide to stay accompanied
by the refrain whose origin 

I don’t need to see to believe,
only keep listening 
for the unseen song behind everything.