She sat on the edge of the terrace, perfectly balanced on the bar dividing her new hangout from the street far below. Lately, she comes almost every morning, around sunrise. She stays for a long while, tweeting. A real tweet. A real song. She hops her little body down to the flower pots on the ground. She jumps to the chair, and then back to the bar. She flits away, returns, calls to a friend somewhere down the block, leaves again and returns. I stand at the doorway, careful not to move too quickly or to make any noise. I stare in amazement, awed by nature’s simple perfection here in the middle of complex city far from perfect.