Hygge is here with hens and hes–not in trees, but, still, where the roost does please.
Senescence has not yet turned chicks to rents; spirits still see, through greys, luminescence.
Bird calls for gals? Bird tweets for worms? Bird chirps for spring? What if realia is birds just like to sing?
No situation could compel crew to leave comfort of their beach. Wait–third bird eyes a lonely switchel out of reach. ; )