That Seasonal Ritual

We share no common language
yet they spoke directly to me perhaps
anticipating communication of such
dramatic moment was an imperative
even from one species to another. They
spoke in fact through the medium of
that language representing their primal
inheritance ensconced deep within their
DNA, and mine responded in kind.
I had no real need of experiencing all
too soon the drama of their nighttime
flight, the chatter of warblers migrating
south, a ritual as ancient as existence.
My own interior resources recognized
the waning of daylight hours, that
dusk arrived now all too swiftly, the sun's
abrupt departure, the cooling nights
and expiring plants, all harbingers of
seasonal change, informing all the
creatures upon this globe that summer
is swiftly departing. So, no, it was not
that I was oblivious to this transition
just that hearing their plaintive calls to
their collegial formation lest any be lost 
that inspired in me an intimate sense of 
pensive loss, a pervasive melancholy.